


Heritage

by lanawrites94



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura is the biggest Plance shipper, Canon Divergent, Everyone Is In Denial, F/M, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Hunk sees all, Krolia is a BAM, Light Angst, M/M, Pidge and Keith are quiznacking tiny., Pidgeance, Pining Keith is in Denial, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Pining Shiro is blind, Project Kuron, Quiznack is the only curse word, Rainforest, SHEITH - Freeform, Slow Burn, altean!lance, angst is getting heavier, background Sheith - Freeform, does this qualify as slow burn?, dramatech, everyone is pining, except Hunk, flirtyrobot, fuckplant - Freeform, heritage, pance, plance, seasalt, smartwater - Freeform, voltron as family, whoops, why did i tell y'all it was light angst?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-03-24 09:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13808340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanawrites94/pseuds/lanawrites94
Summary: In which Team Voltron discovers that Keith is not the only Paladin with more-than-human heritage.





	1. Code "Huh"?

The day started out like any other. Lance McClain greeted the space-day and carried out his morning skincare routine: a mild cleanser; just a little exfoliation; moisturizer, SPF 15. In space with no ozone to protect him, he couldn’t be too careful. He didn’t notice anything unusual about his face, but he wasn’t looking closely, focused on his task rather than his reflection. The familiar motions were soothing against the raw alien-ness of his new normal. This was a little piece of home.

Next came a team breakfast where Shiro, Allura, and Coran were predictably bushy tailed, Hunk and Pidge were dragging and drinking space-coffee, and Keith was…well, Keith. The food goo was as bland as ever, and Coran reported that no new distress beacons had been detected. That meant at least half a day on the training deck, followed by hours of sifting through intercepted transmissions for everyone as they drifted along the edge of Galra-occupied space, while Allura and Shiro coordinated with the Rebels and the Blades, debating their next strike against Zarkon. Lance was glad that no one had had a Galra-related crisis in the last twenty-four hours, but this was _not_ his idea of a day off.

Training was a normal blend of a workout, honing their individual skills, practicing things they weren’t so good at so as to be ready for anything, and the increasingly random teambuilding exercises Coran came up with. Lance was convinced their moustached space uncle had access to Earth’s Internet and was holding out on them, which was infuriating because Netflix. That was a teambuilding exercise he could get behind, but here they were doing trust exercises of all things. Literal, drama-class-style trust exercises.

Lance was sore by the time he emerged from his steamy post-exercise shower, not unpleasantly so, but when he was greeted at the door to the kitchen with a plate already made (Hunk’s cooking, thankfully) and directed to the bridge, he fully expected to be a different kind of sore by the time he got to bed that space-night.

He sat at his terminal and nibbled on his sandwich—it was a shame they hadn’t had time to make cheese with Kaltenecker’s milk—as he scanned the data on his screen, looking for anything that might merit a flag for Pidge’s closer inspection. He got bored pretty quickly and let his eyes wander.

His gaze fell on Allura’s command station, and, after reasoning that he had definitely earned a break by now, he wandered to it. None of the other Paladins were paying him any attention. He grinned and stepped up on the platform, already opening his mouth to mimic the Altean Princess in falsetto. “What the quiznack!?” The columns rose and Lance squeaked, jumping away, his face as red as Keith’s armor.

 Everyone dropped what they were doing, but their admonishments died before they could be voiced.

Someone tapped a com button. “Space Mom to the bridge, please,” Pidge said, her voice echoing through the halls of the castleship. “I repeat, Space Mom to the bridge. We have a code ‘huh?’”

Lance was still staring at the columns when Allura’s footsteps sounded from down the hall, approaching quickly but not at a run. Improvisation was never done over the intercom in an emergency situation, given that Allura and Coran still had only an abysmal grasp of Earth humor.

“Space Mom?” she asked as she came through the door. “Really, Pi—”

Allura froze in her tracks, her eyes flicking between the columns and Lance, who was still the only one away from his terminal. She slowly approached, her mouth hanging slightly open. “But that’s not… It doesn’t even react for Coran. How…”

Lance clasped his hands behind his back and stared at his shoes. “Sorry, Allura.”

She just stared at him. “‘Sorry’? What are you sorry for?

“I broke it?”

“No, don’t be silly!”

“Then what…”

“Altean hardware can be coded for DNA like a lot of Galra Tech,” Pidge offered, eyes fixed on Lance’s face. Everyone was staring at his face.

“Precisely. Thank you, Pidge,” Allura said.  “The control center was designed to react with a recessive gene that was uncommon within the general population of Altea. My father could pilot the castle, but my mother could not. I can do it because my mother carried the recessive gene, and I inherited it. Coran can’t activate it, but one of his siblings could.”

“So, what? You think I’m part Altean, same as Keith is part Galra? I’m not buying it, Princess. I don’t have those marks on my cheeks.”

“Uh, Lance?” Hunk said, standing and moving closer. The others weren’t far behind.

“What, buddy?”

“Yes, you do.”

“ _WHAT?_ ”

“Lance, how are you with needles? This is so fascinating!” Allura turned for the door, shouting as she ran. “Meet me in the med bay in half a varga. Coran!”

Lance turned to Hunk. “What do you mean ‘yes, you do’? I do what?”

“You have marks on your face, now,” Keith supplied without inflection, arms crossed and eyes blank.

“You got really flushed when the columns came up, and now you have kinda blue Nike symbols under your eyes.” Pidge squinted at him, standing on her tip toes and a little closer than he would’ve ordinarily expected her to be. “I guess they’re teal? They almost blend in, though. I might not have noticed if I hadn’t been here when it happened.”

“Aw, man! My mom is going to think I got a tattoo and instead of my ‘welcome home’ party, she’s going to be planning my funeral!”

“Maybe not!” Hunk said, hands up in a placating gesture.

“Hunk’s right,” Pidge said. “Allura can turn herself _purple_. Maybe you can make those disappear, or at least blend in better.”

“Either way, you should go meet Allura,” Keith said. He was out the door before anyone could even look at him properly.

Shiro muttered something under his breath and followed his friend. “Keith,” he called. “Wait up.”


	2. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Keith pretends he's not upset, and Lance has a blood test. (needles vaguely referenced; don't worry, I can't stand them either)

Shiro followed Keith all the way back to the residential hallway, unsurprised when the boy disappeared into his room. He debated for only a tick before he stuck his prosthetic hand in the path of the closing door.

“Keith? Can I come in?”

“Depends. Do _you_ have some kind of alien heritage just waiting to be discovered?”

Shiro shoved the door open and stepped inside to find his friend sitting cross-legged on his bed, the blanket pulled so taut it would have made the petty officers back at the Garrison proud.

“I know you may not _want_ to talk about it, but I really think you should.”

Keith blanched. “Talk about what, Shiro? There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not upset.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Quiznack,” Keith muttered. Louder, he said, “Why can’t you just let me be the loner?”

“What kind of Space Dad would I be if I did that?”

Keith rubbed his hand over his face. “The less annoying kind? On a side note, I thought you said you were too young to have kids our age.”

Shiro crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, one eyebrow raised. “I am; I thought that was the joke? I’ve known you for years and I know when you’re upset. Please talk to me.”

“Nobody was that excited when I awakened the Luxite blade.”

“No one was there but me when that happened. I’m sure Pidge and Hunk just don’t know what to say. And Lance hasn’t been treating you any differently from before, and he’s not going to. I don’t know if you realize this, but he was attending the Garrison on a Visa.”

“What about Allura?”

Shiro sighed and waved toward the bed. “Can I sit?” Keith nodded and Shiro stepped across the room. “We know Zarkon was the original Black Paladin, and that her father built all five lions. I suspect there’s a lot more to the story.”

“Go on.”

“Coran said the previous Paladins fought hundreds of battles together, presumably before Voltron ever came into the picture. It sounds to me like King Alfor and Zarkon were friends. Coran is basically her uncle, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she had a similar relationship with Zarkon before the war, which would mean that all of this is a lot more personal for her than she’s letting on. It wasn’t just a random person who committed genocide against her people and destroyed her planet. It was her father’s _friend_ and someone she probably loved.

“I know this won’t make you feel better, but this isn’t about you being part-Galra. This is about a new association in her head between you and Zarkon. She just needs time to process and remember that _you_ are her friend and that just because you and Zarkon are partially of the same species doesn’t mean _you_ are going to betray her.”

“But she’s so excited about Lance.”

“Genocide,” Shiro reminded him. “She thought she and Coran were the last of her people left, but if Lance carries some Altean genes then that means some of her people survived the destruction of Altea 10,000 years ago. She may have a chance to revive her culture when all of this is over or at least get some closure, so this has more to do with Lance’s new ‘tattoos’ than it has to do with him.”

Keith tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re right. That doesn’t really make me feel better, just more and more like my blood is tainted.”

Shiro sighed. “I wish I could make this easier, but I promise you the other Paladins don’t think of you any differently. You’re still their friend and nothing in your DNA is going to change that.”

“You think they think I’m their friend?”

Shiro smiled. “They’ve put up with you this long. Why else would they?”

Keith punched Shiro in the shoulder, his mirth finally reaching his eyes.

 

Lance kept his eyes closed after he sat down in the med bay. Allura had mentioned needles and he hoped he’d be alright so long as he didn’t see them.

Allura and Coran were speaking so fast in their excitement that Lance could barely follow. He caught the words “colony,” “Earth,” and “diversity” but wasn’t really sure what to make of anything.

“So Lance, tell me about your home? Where are you from?”

“Uh, Earth?”

Lance imagined Allura rolling her eyes. “You know what I meant.”

He sighed. “Look, I’m not sure where to start or what you want to know. Are you going to take a blood sample or not? Because I really hate needles and would rather get it over with.”

There was a rustling in a drawer and footsteps.

“Which arm?” Coran asked. Lance offered his left. “Do you want me to count?”

“God, no. Please just do it.”

Allura started talking about the mice and how cute they were, probably trying to ease his nerves as Coran swabbed his elbow and prodded, looking for a vein. It helped a little bit.

“Oh. Hello, Number 5.”

Lance took a peek out of his right eye. Pidge was wearing a forced smile. Her eyes were trained on the opposite wall, anywhere but on what Coran was doing. Lance closed his eye again.

“What’s up, Pidgeotto?”

“Oh nothing,” she said. “Resting my eyes. I’ve been staring at a computer screen for too long.”

Lance didn’t believe that for a second. Pidge never took a break without someone twisting her arm.

“Fantastic! Then can you help me over here? Number 3 keeps jerking away from me. Would you hold his arm still?”

A pair of small, clammy hands enveloped his left hand. He tried to relax and was comforted when she squeezed.

“Like this?”

“Perfect.”

“So what are you doing here really?” Lance asked, keeping his eyes firmly shut.

Pidge’s breathing was so perfectly even he thought she must be counting. “I’m curious. If there might be Alteans on Earth, it could mean a trip home.”

He didn’t buy that, either. “That would be nice, but—Ow!”

“All done!”

Lance huffed. Pidge’s hands relaxed around his as Coran’s walked away, but she didn’t let go.

“You were saying?”

“Huh? Oh. It would be nice to go home, but it would be so hard to leave again. I know that the universe needs Voltron and therefore us, but my mother won’t see it that way. She isn’t going to let me out of her sight for a week, and that’s if she doesn’t kill me by smothering. Or my nieces and nephews could trample me. That’s also a possibility.”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Pidge admitted, her cheeks a little warm as she studied his hand in hers. “I only have my mom and dog at home, and honestly I think she would do anything to come with us to look for my dad. But I don’t know what we would do with BaeBae…”

“What is a dog?” Allura asked, edging her way closer. Pidge let go of Lance’s hand and turned slightly, including Allura in the conversation.

“Um…fluffy slobber buckets full of love.”

“Quadrupedal mammals that aren’t always fluffy…they’re commonly kept as companions. Not all of them slobber so much,” Pidge said with a smile, “but they _do_ tend to be full of love.”  

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Uh, hang on just a second.” Pidge pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped the screen. She turned it to display a photo for Allura to see. She swiped to show a plethora of pictures, ranging from the dog rolling on the floor with her or Matt, to the dog running after a ball with his tail wagging, ending on one featuring Pidge with long hair, her brother, father, and BaeBae. Based on the rocket in the background, Lance thought it must have been taken the day of the launch to Kerberos.

Allura’s smile was wide as she looked at the pictures, but when she saw the misting in Pidge’s eyes her grin turned concerned. “Ooh, Pidge, he’s almost as big as you are!”

The shorter woman grumbled under her breath and shoved the phone back in her pocket. “No more dog pictures for you.”

“Aw, what about me?” Lance wined. “I didn’t say anything!”

Pidge smiled sadly. “Keep that up and maybe I’ll show you more later.”

Lance gave her his best angel impersonation.

“So…” Allura said, not so subtly diverting the conversation to not-exactly-safer territory. “Where is home, Lance? Where _on Earth_?”

He gave a sigh. “I was born and raised in Cuba, which is an island off the coast of North America. My mother’s family has lived there for, like, ever. Which is obvious to anybody on Earth when they look at me because everything screams _Cuban_. But the potential colony you’re looking for might not even be in Cuba.”

“ _Oh!_ ” Pidge said. Lance blinked at her, a little surprised. “Sorry. It’s just. It didn’t actually occur to me before, but McClain is an Irish name.”

Lance inclined his head. “Precisely. So you _could_ be better off looking in Ireland, but then again, there’s a massive history of trans-oceanic travel on our planet,” he said to Allura, “so really this hypothetical colony could be _anywhere_ , and if they aren’t in Cuba, you’ll probably never find them.”

“Well this is interesting!” Coran said from across the room.

“No more needles?” Lance asked as Allura shot across the room.

“No more needles,” Coran promised.

Pidge arrived at Coran’s side just after Allura and peered around his shoulder. Lance followed with more caution.

“Ugh! I need to practice my Altean. I can’t make heads or tails of this. What does it say?”

“Lance,” Allura said, staring at him with eyes so wide he thought they might fall out. “You’re more Altean than you are human.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I determined earlier today that this is definitely going to coincide with the other piece I have published here on Ao3, "Still a Paladin," but I don't think you'll have to read the other piece to understand this one (but if you want to read "Still a Paladin," then by all means, please do!)
> 
> I'm not very happy with this chapter; I think it feels rushed and forced, but I think that just means I'm out of practice. That's the main reason I'm writing fanfiction right now instead of working on my book! If you have the time for a critique I would really appreciate it. If you don't quite have that much time, can you drop a comment just to tell me one thing you liked and one thing you didn't? I can't tell you how much I miss my workshop classes from college!
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you all enjoy this very Voltron-filled weekend!


	3. Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one thing Lance never expected just happened. He's fed up with Allura.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, Internet. I'm sorry this chapter has taken so long. I swear I've re-written it at least three times. It was a pain in the tush, but it's done now and that's what matters! I'm going to do my best not to do that again! Hopefully chapter 4 won't take nearly as long, as I think I've already decided on a concept that will actually work! Let me know what you think and thank you for reading, as well as for all the kudos, subscriptions, etc. I'm so happy every time I see new emails about you guys liking my work!

So much had been going on with Voltron and the war that Lance hadn’t had a whole lot of time to dwell on the increasingly-less-recent realization of his heritage. Allura had grilled him for hours about his family history, and given that even the Irish side had lived in Cuba for nearly a century, it was becoming more and more likely that they had found the remnants of an ancient Altean colony. Intellectually speaking, he knew that this was going to affect everything, but nothing had really sunk in yet. He knew he was more than just Cuban, and he spent a significant portion of his free time listening to Allura or Coran talk as much as they could about his cultural heritage, but try as he might he just couldn’t connect with these customs and traditions. Home was _arroz moros_ , _tamales_ , and _flan_ ; _tapas_ in the late evening and cha-cha in the moonlight; hanging out at _Veradero_ Beach when it wasn’t swamped with tourists… It wasn’t learning to use his seemingly nonexistent chameleon powers (as awesome as that would be) or alchemy. He was trying to make it his for Allura’s sake, but the longer this went on the more he realized that he just wanted to be her friend.

He’d completely forgotten about his blue cheeks during the rescue mission at Beta Traz. He suspected that Pidge and Shiro had too until after the jailbreak and the return of the laser monster on the Balmera. It wasn’t until then that Lance removed his helmet and Slav lost is mind, going on and on about how a little bit of blue pigment in his cheeks changed literally everything.

On the bright side, they learned that Slav had indeed learned to swim in this reality. (That was about when Shiro excused himself to go lie down.)

The bit of time on Olkarion while they waited for the teleduv to be completed was the first real free time any of them had had since the Space Mall. As much as Lance liked playing videogames with Pidge, it didn’t count as free time unless there was actual fresh air involved.

“Hey!” he said, jogging into Green’s hanger. “Pidge? Hunk? Y’all want to go explore or something?”

Hunk poked his head out from behind the Green Lion and Pidge kicked her feet against the floor to tell him that she couldn’t come out from under the lion yet.

“Hey, man! That would be cool, but…”

“We thought you’d be holed up with Allura,” Pidge called. Her tone sounded off, but Lance assumed it was because of all the echoing. Seriously, the hangers would be awful for practicing his saxophone if he had not, in fact, left it on Earth. The notes would bounce everywhere and throw him off.

“ _Gracias a Dios que no!_ ” he told her. “You know, going into it I thought so much one-on-one time with her would be cool, but I’m not sure how many more lessons on Altean history and the significance of marking colors I can take…” He checked down the hall behind him to make sure they were really alone. “Pidge, does hanger surveillance pick up audio?”

“Uh, I think so?” She sounded distracted. “Hey, can you pull me out?”

Lance walked forward and crouched to grip the smallest Paladin’s ankles and pulled. “ _Por Dios_ , Pidge! Are you eating enough?”

She sat up and glared at him. “High metabolism. You were asking about audio surveillance? I think it’s recorded but deleted after two quintants if we don’t need it. Why?”

Lance picked at his fingernails. “To be honest, I’m getting a little sick of Allura. I mean, I can’t be the only whose noticed—”

“That she’s treating Keith like he fed her a not-actually-chocolate pie?” Hunk asked. “Oh, yeah. We’ve noticed.”

Pidge stood and brushed off her shorts. “So this is operation ‘Avoid the Racist Princess’? Let’s go get Keith!”

Lance grinned, relieved that they were on board with this. He didn’t want to go alone. “I was thinking we could explore the city. Apparently they have a system-famous shopping district, and I don’t know about you guys but my clothes are nearly holey enough for a priest.”

Hunk glared like “that was funny but a terrible, terrible pun” while Pidge cackled.

Soon enough the Garrison trio had dragged Keith onto the streets of Olkarion. They had invited Shiro as well, but he’d claimed a headache so they left him to his own devices.

Keeping the four of them together was becoming more and more of a challenge in the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Lance was almost relieved when Hunk recognized a grocery store and sped off. Keith hesitated barely a tick before excusing himself to follow, saying the big guy would probably appreciate some help, which left Lance and Pidge to wander.

“What do you think? Will we find any videogames here?”

Lance grinned. “That would be awesome, but I wasn’t kidding about needing some clothes.” He pressed a white part of his shirt to his skin. “Look, you can see through it!”

When he looked up at Pidge she was blinking rapidly and her cheeks were slightly pink.

“Whoa, are you okay? It _is_ a little warm out here.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Clothes. It would be nice to have something different to wear occasionally.”

They found a clothing store easily enough but were a little thrown for a loop when they were met with the Olkari saleswoman. They had forgotten how anatomy tends to affect a species’ sense of style. Lance just out of luck considering his height, but the saleswoman thought they could find something for Pidge.

“So what did you like to wear back home?” Lance asked. “I mean, before you were impersonating a boy at the Garrison.”

She grinned and flicked through the hangers. “Normal stuff, I guess. Jeans and t-shirts. I wore dresses a lot when I wasn’t in school. The one time I did wear one to class it was weird. It was like the boys forgot for a day that I was ‘the nerd.’ One of them tried to flirt with me instead of picking on me like he normally did.”

Pidge looked up when Lance didn’t say anything and was a little surprised to see his mouth hanging open.

“What?”

“They made fun of you for being smart in middle school?”

“Yeah?”

“And they’re still alive?”

Pidge snorted and pulled a couple of hangers. “Believe it or not I wasn’t born with this level of snark. Those bullies are how I learned it… But I almost gave it all up because of them. Coding, engineering, space…all of it, before Matt got into the Garrison, convinced me that what I wanted would be worth it.” She paused. “It’s actually been really great for me, being part of this team…I know you and Keith probably don’t understand half of what I say sometimes, but you care anyway, and…” She looked at him across the rack, a small smile gracing her lips and her cheeks dusting pink. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that, Lance.”

His own cheeks got really warm for no good reason and he rubbed the back of his head, looking anywhere but at her. “Well, you’re my teammate. How could I not care what the great Pidge Holt has to say?”

She snickered. “You realize ‘Pidge’ is just a nickname, right? That isn’t actually my name.”

“ _Por Dios!_ ” Lance cried. “What else haven’t you told me? You _are_ actually seventeen, right?”

“Fifteen.”

“I knew that. I was just testing you.”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Haha, very funny. I told you already that I didn’t have any more secrets. Shiro would’ve told you my name if you’d asked. I just didn’t think it was important.”

“Why does Shiro know it?”

She frowned and moved on to the next rack of clothes. “Because he’s Takashi Shirogane? He was a dinner guest at our house every Sunday when he and my dad weren’t on a mission.”

There was silence for a few ticks, filled only by the sliding of hangers along metal rods. Pidge had already found a few t-shirts (basically) in various shades of green, which would be nice if only because she wouldn’t be wearing the same sweater when she wasn’t in her Paladin armor. She found something equating blue jeans as well and was about to suggest that they move on and look for videogames when Lance got her attention.

“How do you feel about the color purple?”

“The book or the actual color?”

He chuckled and held up a hanger with a dress a lot like her favorite one from back home. It boasted a princess neckline, no sleeves, and a loose A-line skirt, nothing at all like what she’d seen the Olkari wearing. It was almost elegant in its simplicity, but she could see herself wearing it because she wanted to, not just for the “formal” diplomatic meetings that Allura sometimes sprang on them. She touched her hair while she stared.  

“You alright, Pidge?”

“Yeah,” she said, staring wistfully at the dress. “It’s just, that’s so impractical… I mean, what would I do if I had to fight in it?”

“Uh, kick Galra tail?” Lance smiled and fingered his chin. “You know, it’s okay for you to just want to be cute sometimes.” _Not that you need a dress for that_.

She smiled and reached for the hanger. He obliged and watched her walk to the dressing room.

The way she’d been messing with her hair bothered him a little. He’d seen a photo of her wearing it long, but it hadn’t occurred to him before now that she might miss it. He turned to the sales woman.

“Is there anywhere I can get just fabric? Or yarn?”

The woman thought. “Is this for the Green Paladin’s…” she motioned to the area surrounding her head.

“Yeah, it’s for her hair. She used to wear it longer…I was thinking I could make her a headband.”

“A what?”

“It’s an Earth thing we developed for dealing with hair at awkward lengths.”

“I see. I may have something for you.” She went into the storage room just as Pidge emerged from the dressing room.

Lance grinned. He’d been right about the dress.

The lavender complemented her creamy skin and auburn hair. He’d always known Pidge was cute, even when he thought she was a he. But seeing her when she felt cute? That was better.

“Pidge, forget practicality. You need that dress.”

She flushed and messed with the ends of her hair again. “You really think so?”

“Yup.” He reached in his pockets for the money that Coran had given him.

“No, none of that!” the saleswoman commanded as she returned. “I won’t accept payment from the Paladins of Voltron, not after everything you’ve done for us. Take this as my thanks!” she said, gesturing to the clothes Pidge had already picked out and the scraps of fabric she held folded in her hands. “And before you say it, this is nothing. Would you accept it, I’d gladly make formalwear for all five of you. _Please_ come to me should you need any such thing!”

They didn’t see Keith or Hunk until they made it back to the ship, where they found their teammates putting away an abundance of fresh vegetables and spices. Lance was excited to see what Hunk could come up with now that he had fresh ingredients to work with. It still wouldn’t be the same as having food from Earth, but it would be better than space goo day in and day out.

Pidge excused herself to clean up for dinner and Lance sat at the table with his bag of fabric scraps, checking what he had and what he might be able to make into anything that might help Pidge between now and re-establishing her long hair. He could feel Keith hovering behind him as he worked but ignored him as he sorted out the strips, compared lengths, textures, and elasticities.  

“What are you doing?”

“Uh…well, I noticed something earlier. I think Pidge is self-conscious about her hair. I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but that picture she has of her with her brother? Her hair was really long before she went undercover, and I think she misses it. She kept messing with it when we were shopping.”

“That doesn’t explain what you’re doing.”

“Hmm? You’ve obviously grown your hair out before, Mullet. What’s the most annoying thing about it?”

“Uh, it got all in my—oh! So you’re experimenting with hair ties?”

“And headbands. Pretty much anything so that if she _does_ decide to grow it back out it’ll be as easy as possible. We found a dress and she looked like she really wanted it, but she kept talking about how impractical it would be, and I hate that it was her first thought. I mean, we’ve all given up a lot to be here instead of on Earth… But Pidge has definitely given up the most, and for her all of this started months sooner.”

Hunk and Keith shared a meaningful look behind Lance’s back.

“So…what do think of the gremlin?” Keith asked.

“Who?”

“Pidge,” Hunk clarified.

“I don’t know what you mean?”

“Well, she’s cute, right?” Keith asked.

Lance snorted. “Yeah. Anybody with eyes can see that. But I think she’s a little young for you, Mullet.”

Keith spluttered and Hunk guffawed.

“I give up,” Keith muttered, red in the face. “I’m gonna go train.”


	4. A Child's Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Keith is struggling with his place in the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Here's chapter four, finally! Better late than never, right? Long note at the bottom with a little more about why it took me so long. I just wanted to say up here that I'm not very confident in my tagging skills, so if you see anything that I haven't tagged and you think I should, PLEASE let me know, same for if I've tagged something that you think was unnecessary. Can't learn much without help. Thank y'all in advance!

Keith had lived a hard life since they took him away from his dad—ten years later, several star systems away, and he still didn’t understand _why_ they’d been separated, not that it would make any difference now. It taught him not to depend on anyone, to keep everything close to his chest. It taught him to stay closed off from even the people who claimed to love him.

The first person who’d ever managed to break through his defenses was Shiro. It unbalanced him when the Kerberos mission went south, costing Commander Iverson an eye and Keith his education and his chance to see the stars like his mother. It had depressed him for a while, but in the end he hadn’t needed the Garrison to see the stars.

Losing Shiro a second time had broken him, and this time there was no Iverson to take the brunt of his grief. Shiro was his best friend, his whole world, and he didn’t know what to do without him. So if he wasn’t actively training or piloting Red with the team, he was out in that debris field searching for their missing leader, not that he knew what he was looking for. What evidence could he find of Shiro’s fate besides a frozen corpse? Every fruitless search filled him with hope and dread in equal measure.

Shiro could be alright somewhere, alive and fighting to reunite with his team, reunite with Keith. But why would he take so long?

Shiro could’ve been incinerated as Zarkon’s final act of malice. And they might never know for sure.

_If I don’t make it, I want you to lead Voltron._

_I want you to lead Voltron._

_Lead Voltron._

_Lead._

_Voltron._

Quiznack.

Keith hadn’t volunteered that information, nor did he plan to. He was a mess, and literally anyone else on the team would make a better Black Paladin than him, especially now.

He prayed he could find Shiro before Allura suggested finding a replacement, because she eventually would. Voltron was too important to the resistance to wait much longer, but that didn’t ease the sting when it happened, when Black rejected every actually reasonable candidate in favor of Keith, because Shiro’s word was law.

In hindsight he supposed Lance hadn’t been ready to lead yet either.

Even though he didn’t want it, Keith tried to be a good leader. In retrospect, he knew he’d made some bad calls. Especially with their first scuffle with Lotor. He wasn’t sure if his decisions proved he had no business in a leadership position or if he’d actually been trying to convince Black to spit him out and trade for Lance. The Cuban’s ego would have been unbearable, but Keith still would’ve preferred that to what actually happened. He nearly got his whole team killed. He wanted to be there for them, but he couldn’t be Shiro. Lone wolves just weren’t made to be leaders. Why couldn’t Black understand that? Keith belonged with Red, who was at least as impulsive and shortsighted as he. With Allura in Blue now, the Black Paladin had to be able to see the big picture as well as be the battlefield commander. He could’ve handled the latter, at least for a while, but Keith trying to be both was going to get someone killed.

Keith had never been raised in church, but every Sunday his father had read to him from the Bible, sharing the beliefs he found so beautiful. As a child, Keith had believed it too, had prayed with the man sweet prayers that didn’t amount to much of anything.

_Please keep Mommy safe, wherever she is._

He had no idea how that had worked out.

_Please give us rain because it’s really hot—or snow! Snow would be better._

It was the desert. Of course he never got snow.

_Please let me explore the stars someday._

That happened, but one out of three wasn’t enough to restore his belief is someone who either didn’t exist or had abandoned him, just like everyone else. But even so, now that he was in the middle of a space war, scarcely a quintant went by now that he didn’t find himself begging for something.

_Please let us get out of this firefight in one piece._

They usually got out okay. Sometimes they made use of the healing pods, but they hadn’t been scared of losing anyone since the epic of Lance and the bomb.

_Please don’t let this diplomatic dinner be as awful as it sounds._

That never worked out in his favor, and he was inexpressibly grateful that Pidge, at least, was as uncomfortable as he. If she wasn’t sticking by Lance so she didn’t have to talk, she was in a corner with him, hiding in companionable silence and hoping Allura wouldn’t find them being antisocial. That comradery made it a little easier to bear.

_Please bring Shiro back to me._

That almost did it, and he thanked God for the first time in years when Black took off without warning and the limping Galra fighter came into view and Shiro hailed him. It was a relief for everyone when Shiro set foot on the castleship again. The group hug suffocated Keith even though he wasn’t at the center, and he was almost relieved when a suddenly serious Coran broke it up and whisked Shiro off to a healing pod.

_Please don’t make me lead them._

If he was still asking by now, then Keith supposed his father had been right. There are no atheists in foxholes and he might never fully get away from his religious roots. He wished he knew _why_ he was still asking.

* * *

It hurt that Shiro kept his distance when he came out of the healing pod, but it was to be expected. Keith didn’t care to think about how long Shiro had spent in captivity, how much he might remember this time, how much he might prefer to forget. No one could or _would_ blame him for hiding. Keith was just grateful that Shiro admitted him at every mealtime without fail even though he wasn’t eating much of the food Keith brought him. Or talking much, though he did answer any questions that Keith asked him.

“Well, you'd just unlocked the Black Lion’s ability to teleport. Could it have teleported you? Maybe it was trying to save you.”

“By teleporting me into the hands of the Galra?”

"Maybe Zarkon forced it to. I mean, he was trying to control the Black Lion up until the very last moment, right?"

"Yeah, maybe."

“Well, if you're feeling up to it, the rest of the team would be thrilled to see you up and around again. They need you, you know.”

“Yeah, I’ll try."

“Hey, Keith?”

His heart stopped in his throat and he turned back to look at his friend from the doorway. He thought he saw an instant of conflict on Shiro’s face before he spoke again. "Yeah?"

“How many times are you going to have to save me before this is over?”

Keith didn’t know what he’d wanted Shiro to say, but that wasn’t it. He felt disappointed, let down. Which was ridiculous. The light teasing from Shiro was comfortable, something normal that he’d been desperately missing.

“As many times as it takes.”

And he walked away, just like he’d walked away from his father with the social worker gripping his arm. “Hey, Keith,” he’d said, and Keith had dug in his heels against the crabby woman’s pull so that maybe he could hear what his father had to say. “I love you.”

He wanted to cry at the reminder, found himself later on the training deck with a punching bag—Alteans had those?—and bloody knuckles.

* * *

 

Keith couldn’t wrap his head around how finding Shiro, having him back, was _worse_ than losing him in the first place. He looked the same, sounded the same, but he was different. At first, he thought it was just a defense mechanism leftover from Shiro’s _second round_ of Galra captivity making him so distant, that either Shiro would shake it off after a few movements, once he started to feel at home and relatively safe again. Or Keith would get used to it and accept it as part of the man he so…admired. That was the word. Definitely.

He didn’t have time for a better word.

But Shiro didn’t shake it off. Keith didn’t get used to it. He couldn’t consolidate this altered…personality. With his concept of Takeshi Shirogane.

The Shiro he knew was a pilot and battlefield commander who thrived in the thick of things, not because he enjoyed himself there but because it was where he was meant to be, in the heart of the danger.

This Shiro was content to hang back, watch and direct from a distance. He still cared deeply for the team—there was no question about that—but the willingness to stay back wasn’t accompanied by that unconditional trust he used to have in his team to do their jobs. And he compensated by micromanaging Keith, by trying to remain the Black Paladin without _being_ the Black Paladin.

Keith had all but made his decision before he ran into Pidge on her way to the training deck. She was smiling, which was a nice change from past movements when everyone had been mad at him for one thing or another, mostly for spending more and more time with the Blade.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hi.”

“Are you heading out?”

He only shrugged, reluctant to meet her amber gaze.

“Okay….do you have a minute to help me with grappling?  Shiro’s been hounding me about my technique, and I think he’s forgotten that I’m quiznacking tiny. It’s like he wants me to be a brawler and that just isn’t going to work unless I turn into the Hulk… I was hoping for some tips from someone else who is also quiznacking tiny?”

She was almost smirking. Keith wanted to glower at her, but the teasing…was something friends did, right? Pidge teased Lance and Hunk all the time, and Shiro, too, though less often since his return. But he couldn’t remember a time where she’d teased him. He’s never thought something like that would feel nice.

“I…I’m sorry, Pidge. But I have to meet Kolivan soon. But maybe when I get back?”

“Yes, please… Can I walk with you?”

“Uh… I guess so? What’s up?” He slowed his pace a little, not enough for Pidge to notice, but enough that he hoped she wouldn’t have to take such big strides as everyone else made the “quiznacking tiny” Paladin take.

“I was just wondering…are you okay? It doesn’t seem like you’re sleeping at night. I saw the logs, and the lights have stayed up on the training deck all night for…ever, feels like.”

“Sleep is for the dead.”

“Okay, resident techie, insomniac, and night owl talking here, but dude, you should sleep more. It’s not _healthy_ , even for people who _aren’t_ growing teenagers (well, not me) fighting an intergalactic space war.”

“Whatever.”

“…How are things going with the Blade?”

He shrugged. “Stuff’s getting done, I guess. We’re trying to track down quintessence supply lines.”

“I see. Probably not what you signed up for, but it’s important all the same.”

“How—uh…what?” Keith stopped and Pidge bumped into his shoulder. She adjusted her glasses over furrowed brows as she looked up at him.

“What what?”

“Why do you think I ‘signed up’?”

She frowned. “Well, I assumed you were hoping to learn something about your mom and her culture, since she’s clearly connected to them and they’re the only not-evil Galra we’ve been able to associate with so far.”

“Uh…”

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to know where you come from. You’ve experienced the _Southern US_ aspect of your heritage all your life, right? The rest of us have had all our lives to learn about our families. Dad used to take me and Matt to Italy every summer, and I’ve probably memorized a couple of the museums by now, and I speak Italian almost as well as I speak English, better than I speak French despite three years of classes. Lance grew up _in Cuba_ , and Hunk _in Hawaii_ , so there’s no question whether or not they’re in touch with their heritage. Well, the Altean bit for Lance is new, but he’s learning about that now. The rest of us _know_ our two or more cultures. You deserve to get to know yours, and I hope that this war won’t make you reject all of it before you even know anything about what the Galra are _supposed_ to be like.”

Keith scoffed. “Neither the Italians nor the Cubans have a history as bloody as the Galra. And don’t get me started on the Alteans…”

“Okay. One, it’s not a competition. Two, I could be related to Mussolini for all I know.”

Keith snorted. “No, you’re not. You’d know.”

“Would I? Three, you’re comparing apples and oranges. You can’t compare Italians or Cubans to the _entire Galra race_. And even if you were to compare humans and Galra, you’d have to account for societal and technological development, and how far they can reach. We can’t get out of our solar system right now, but if you looked far enough back to when the Galra were limited to just Daibazaal they might not have been any worse than humans. As for Altea…If you tell Allura or Coran I said this I will deny it and tell them you’re not sleeping—you know hallucinations are known to start after about fifty-hours of wakefulness, which I certainly don’t know from personal experience—but we don’t know much of anything about their history. Maybe they’ve been alright in this reality, but we’ve seen another one where the Alteans were guilty of the same kind of genocide as Zarkon, if not worse. I guess what I’m trying to get at is that you shouldn’t reject it all because Zarkon is evil and has presented the galaxy with a very skewed perception of his race.”

“Since when did you specialize in social sciences, too?”

“I’m _very_ well read. It was like a requirement at my house.”

So Brainiac Pidge, Lance’s precious science pigeon, thought he should learn more about his Galra heritage, that he deserved to know.

What better way than to go deep under cover with the Blade to track down the source of that new super-quintessence? Two birds. One stone.

And it would be a nice break from disappointing the light of his life.

 _The light of my_ what _now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I'm really sorry this chapter took so long, but it was still less than three weeks! So at least there's that! One of the things I really struggled with in this chapter was portraying Keith's relationship with his father's faith--I figured he probably was most likely to be Christian if anything given that he's Southern, and since most accounts of GoLion at least imply that Keith was, so I thought why not. The part I was struggling with was portraying him as one who was raised in the faith but had drifted away from it, and this was difficult for me because I'm a Southern Baptist and have been devout since I was six. So if you have any questions, comments, concerns, personal vendettas, or pieces of constructive criticisms about that specifically or the chapter/series in general, PLEASE drop a comment below! I'd love to hear from y'all!
> 
> Thank y'all so much for reading!
> 
> Also, I have started a tumblr under the same username that I have here, and am hoping to post there whenever I update here, for those of you who have not yet gotten to sign up here on AO3 and can't subscribe might still be able to get a notification when I update. The URL is lanawrites94.tumblr.com. Feel free to stop by and say hi, interact with me, whatever. Seriously, I have no life. Please come talk to me! (My nerdy reblogs are on http://i-am-pidgance-trash.tumblr.com, in case you're interested in seeing the meta and fanart that may or may not inspire some of my writing choices.)
> 
> Last thing! I'm participating in Plance AU Week! Which is April 15th through the 22nd. My plan is to write a piece for all eight days, and I've done the prewriting for the first three, so we'll see how that goes. Wish me luck! <3


	5. Food for Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Katie's mind wanders.

 “Again, Pidge,” Shiro said.

Katie was sweating a river. She had lost count of the number of times she had tried and failed this exercise. Shiro wanted her to be able to bring down opponents twice her size in hand-to-hand. Without her bayard.

“Shiro, what’s the point?” she panted, wiping the rivulets of sweat off her forehead. “Calling me five feet tall is generous. I’ve only broken a hundred ten pounds because of strength training and increased gravity. I can’t even pin Lance on a good day. If I get this close to a hostile non-human, I’m toast. But…by the look on your face I may be toast anyway.”

Shiro’s frown and single raised eyebrow told her exactly how unamused he was. “Pidge, I know it seems hopeless now, but it won’t in a couple more months.”

“I still think running an electric current over the surface of my armor would be more effective.”

“But what happens when you come up against someone who isn’t affected by electricity? Or you get wet? Or the battery runs out?”

Katie had contingency plans, but they were neither reliable nor realistic. She knew Shiro had a point, but acknowledging that meant admitting she wasn’t entirely right. Katie wasn’t very good at that, and she never had been.

“Come at me, Pidge.”

By the time Shiro let her leave, long after everyone else, Katie was beyond ready for a shower. She knew Shiro wasn’t doing this to bully her for being small. He was just trying to keep her safe, but knowing that didn’t make her feel any less singled out. Or any less angry about it.

The only downside Katie had found to knowing her brother and father were both safe was that without that personal goal to focus all of her attention her mind tended to wander. All the time, but especially when she showered after training. That wasn’t the bad part; she had come up with some of her most impressive projects by letting her mind wander while she performed menial tasks. The _problem_ was that more and more often she would get stuck on Lance, on how his not actually new anymore Altean Marks accented his gorgeous, beautiful eyes, how much she adored his smile and the way he would behave like a complete and total goofball all the time. How sometimes it seemed like he goofed off just to make her laugh.

But that was ridiculous. She had more important things to think about than Lance’s sense of humor, eyes, lips…

_Nope!_

Katie turned off the temperature control for her shower and was immediately assaulted by cold water. She shrieked and turned it off, but the shock did its job and derailed that train of thought. She toweled off, chafing her skin to try and regain some warmth, and walked to her closet.

Where she quickly realized she needed to do laundry, as she only had two outfits clean. The clothes she’d been wearing when she came to the Castle of Lions, which were so worn she feared the sweater would unravel if she so much as looked at it funny, and the dress she’d gotten with Lance that day on Olkarion. It still bore its tag, undisturbed throughout Shiro’s absence, her trip to find Matt, the Naxzela kerfuffle, and now the death of Zarkon.

There were visiting _Emperor_ Lotor at his base of operations in the morning. They hadn’t had a real fight since the Kral Zera a week ago. Surely it would be okay. Just this once. It wasn’t like she had anything else to wear.

Katie emerged from her room just in time for dinner, but she hurried down the hallway anyway, famished as she was. She’d almost forgotten what she was wearing by the time she got to the dining room. Back home—before Kerberos—she’d worn dresses as often as anything else, and the swish of fabric around her knees still felt as comfortable and familiar as if she’d never stopped wearing them. If not for the obvious absence of curls flowing to her waist, Katie might’ve believed all of this had only been a terrible dream.

But then she was in the dining room, grabbing her plate and serving herself as she felt nine pairs of eyes on her back.

She glanced at the other inhabitants of the castleship when she sat down and furrowed her brow. “What?”

Obviously forced conversation erupted from nowhere, a whole lot of nonsense to deflect her question. Katie might’ve let it go if not for the odd look on Lance’s face. He was the only one not pretending to be otherwise occupied.

She had no idea what that face was supposed to mean.

When he caught her glaring back at him he gave her his signature grin—not the flirty one. The one that was reserved for friends, and only when he was genuinely happy.

“You look cute, Pidge,” he said and returned to his food goo.

Katie _really_ didn’t know what to do with that, so she focused on her own food goo and ignored absolutely everyone and everything, including the sudden warmth in her cheeks.

* * *

Her mind wouldn’t shut off when she climbed into bed for the night cycle. They were due to visit Lotor’s base of operations in a matter of vargas, and she needed to be alert. She was going to be surrounded by Galra soldiers and it didn’t sit well in her stomach. She knew they were loyal to Lotor, who was in fact now an ally of the Voltron Coalition, and she owed him for her father’s safety. But Lotor was only one person, and if someone defied his orders and went after the Paladins, she couldn’t be off guard. She couldn’t let them take her like they’d taken her brother and father. She couldn’t let them take any of the other Paladins from her either.

_Especially not Lance._

It was a rogue thought of unknown origin, and Katie didn’t know what to do with it. She just knew that spending time with him made her happy, and watching him flirt with every female in the known universe but her distressed her.

Thoughts of his smile warmed her heart and soothed her mind so that sleep could claim her in the early hours of the morning.

* * *

The Green Paladin of Voltron startled into consciousness after not enough sleep, gasping for breath and blinking the exhaustion and tears from her eyes. Nightmares were nothing new; only the topic ever changed.

But this one shouldn’t have been so upsetting.

_Even if…_

_No._

Katie tried to get out of bed too quickly and fell to the floor, bare legs tangled in her sheets. She kicked them off and stood, looking for her clothes. Compression tank. Shorts. She didn’t bother with a sweater or even her shoes. She only needed to be decent enough to punch something.

* * *

Lance feigned his usual chiperness as he effected a stroll to breakfast. Truth be told, he hadn’t gotten _any_ of his required beauty rest the night before, and he’d crawled out of bed an extra half hour early to hide the unattractive bags under his eyes. It wouldn’t do anything good for his anxiety if he looked tired and off his game today.

He was so tired he almost thought he was imagining the sounds coming from the training deck. But then the grunts and dull impacts were followed by a hiss and a curse and Lance barreled through the door without a second thought.

“Pidge?”

She was leaning heavily against a sand bag, her back so drenched in sweat that he could see her skin through her white tank top. He might’ve been distracted by that if she hadn’t jumped when he spoke.

The tiny girl spun on her heel, fists raised, chest heaving, eyes wide with fright.

Lance raised his own hands. “Calm down, Pidge. It’s just me.” He noticed her hands and frowned. “Rough morning?”

She was visibly making an effort to control her breathing, and Lance took a step closer. When she had seen him move but didn’t especially react he closed the distance and held out his hands, eyes trained on hers.

“Can I look?”

She reluctantly placed her hands in his. Her knuckles were bloody, but Lance supposed it could’ve been a lot worse, considering Pidge hadn’t wrapped her hands or anything.

“Well, you don’t need a pod, but we should get you cleaned up.” Lance glanced briefly at her face and deeply regretted it. Pidge clearly hadn’t gotten much more sleep than he had, yet she was _still_ beautiful, even with the bags under her eyes and the sweat dripping down her face. It was hardly fair. “Want me to walk with you to the med bay? You’d think we’d have a first aid kit here. I’ll have to talk to Coran about that.”

Pidge leaned her face back into his field of vision, her tired eyes full of curiosity.

Lance looked away.

She did it again, and so did he.

“Why are you acting weird?”

“Huh? I’m not acting weird. What are you talking about?”

“Yes, you are. You have been since I went to dinner in a dress.”

Lance fought to keep the flush from his cheeks. He honestly had no clue what she was talking about. “You’re the one who’s acting weird, Pidge,” he said, gently releasing her bloodied hand. “Now, c’mon. We should—”

He could only assume Pidge had had enough of Responsible Lance when the next thing he knew he was on the ground with the breath knocked out of him and a quiznacking tiny paladin sitting on his chest. He had missed how he’d ended up on the floor, but he wasn’t going to stay there. Lance’s own training kicked in and he bucked to dislodge his assailant. He was trying to pin _her_ , get the upper hand, literally. But he ended up on his back again with Pidge’s face so close, much too close. He _had_ to shift his focus.

“Is your hair getting longer?”

Pidge sat up abruptly. “Huh? Yeah, I mean, I guess so? That’s what hair’s supposed to do.”

Lance reached up to run his fingers through her bangs.

“Maybe I should cut it again,” she squeaked.

Lance couldn’t help but give a little smirk. “Well, you’re cute with short hair, but I can braid it for you if you decide you want to grow it back out.”

She tilted her head, just enough to lean into his hand. Lance didn’t think she’d done it consciously, but he couldn’t resist caressing her cheek.

“Why would you do that?”

It took a moment for Lance to realize she was talking about her hair.

“Er—I used to do Veronica’s hair when we both still lived at home. And I miss it.”

She glanced away from him. “I’m sure Allura’s hair would be more fun to work with. Short hair’s hard.”

“I honestly have no idea if it would be more fun to work with hers or not, but I _do_ know that Allura doesn’t remind me of home.”

_You do._

Lance turned his hand to trace her jawline with his knuckles. She was growing steadily more flushed and remaining too pretty to be fair. He struggled to sit up underneath her, and Pidge scrambled off him just in time to shriek and fall back on top of Lance when the door swished open.

“Uh…hi, guys,” Hunk said, hovering in the doorway while Pidge and Lance wheezed, each equally winded. “Am I interrupting something? Should I come back later? Allura just wanted me to find you two because you’re late for breakfast, but I’ll go stall for you.”

Lance groaned as Hunk left and Pidge’s weight disappeared. He prayed for all he was worth that Hunk was just teasing and didn’t actually think he and Pidge had been hiding in here to make out. His best friend should know Lance could find a better romantic setting than the training deck.

Not that Lance would take Pidge to such a place.

She deserved better anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all! Sorry this took me so long! Getting ready for Plance AU Week was kind of crazy for me, but all of my pieces are up! If you haven't checked those out yet, please do!
> 
> I know better than to promise a consistent update schedule, but I'm going to TRY to get one new chapter up a week, alternating between Heritage and Auntie Pidge, but we'll see. I have a pretty good idea of what I want to do for the next two chapters for this, so maybe we'll all get lucky and they'll just flow! Get ready for some Sheith!
> 
> One more thing. My family works in radio, so I have easy access to recording equipment. I'm not sure if y'all are familiar with the YouTube Channel Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction (if you're not and you like Ladybug, you should check it out. The lady who runs it is amazing!), but I've been thinking about setting up a YouTube channel of my own where I would publish recordings of my own works, both fanfiction and original works. Thoughts? If you'd be interested in this, please let me know!
> 
> Thank y'all so much for reading, and as always, PLEASE tell me if you think my tags are too much or not enough! Have a great rest of your week! Come talk to me on Tumblr!
> 
> lanawrites94.tumblr.com


	6. Migraine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro doesn't feel great and thinks "quiznack" a lot. Space phones are eerily similar to home phones.

Shiro wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and sleep for the rest of his life. He’d had a headache since his second escape from the Galra, and that had been months ago. It didn’t ease with pain killers, under scalding hot water, or when he hid in the dark with a cool rag over his face. It only ever eased when he slept, and sometimes it was so intense he forgot _why_ he couldn’t just sleep for eternity. But he had to remember that it wasn’t an option. Even now that they were allied with Lotor, Voltron was needed to subdue dissenting generals.

Even now that the worst of the war was (theoretically) behind them, he had Paladins that needed more training. Lance and Hunk were progressing well enough. Allura was Allura and needed no help from him. He’d promised both Matt and Sam that he’d keep the youngest Holt safe, but Pidge was just so small and that terrified him. Shiro worried that he wasn’t teaching her properly, that teaching her how to hold her own against larger opponents was a waste of time and he should just make sure she didn’t see any more close combat, but what if he _couldn’t_ keep her out of close combat? He didn’t know how to circumvent the problem of her size, only that he couldn’t let Allura help for fear she’d break the child.

Shiro still had to be a politician, a representative for the Coalition—he had a quiznacking _fanclub_ to avoid—and there were the ever-present whispers when random aliens he didn’t know thought he had his translator switched off. Every member of the Coalition wondered who the princess would choose: Emperor Lotor, so as to strengthen that new alliance, or Shiro, to demonstrate the cohesion and solidarity of the Coalition. Shiro wondered at first why they thought she should have to pick until it made sense and he felt sick. He didn’t want to marry Allura, but for the sake of peace in the universe he thought he would do it if she asked him to. So long as it was purely a political arrangement, though he thought that after all this they both deserved to marry for love. The princess was beautiful, of course, and a very dear friend—more like a sister by now—but his heart did not and would not belong to her. He didn’t _want_ her, and he never would. He had realized women were not his thing as a teenager and—

His head. Throbbed.

The team’s near-asphyxiation mere dobashes previous had _not_ helped with his unceasing headache and it was creeping back toward a migraine. Shiro sat at his terminal in the control room, running on autopilot while he did his part to get them back to Galra HQ and prayed for his pain to finally go away, even if it took the sweet release of death. He didn’t want to die any more than he wanted to be intimate with Allura, but it was hard to keep reality straight when he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in ages and was currently high on pure oxygen. He’d nearly asked Coran to check him out on several occasions but had convinced himself every time that a nap would fix it, despite so much evidence to the contrary. No matter how many times he reasoned that he should ask, he’d always talked himself out of it again before he reached the med bay.

Shiro was shocked from his thoughts by a dial tone—why did space phones have to be so similar to their counterparts back home?—and slammed a finger on the red button. This hadn’t been Shiro’s first near-death experience out here, and it wouldn’t be his last. It wasn’t even his first experience with oxygen deprivation, but after the last one…he’d been saved by Keith, and all he wanted was Keith. He’d caught himself nearly making this call so many times but he couldn’t let it go through, no matter how much he wanted to hear Keith’s voice, see his quiet, endearing smile—not just his picture on the holoscreen above the duration of the call (a quiznacking three ticks), but the real thing. He couldn’t always get what he wanted though.

Scratch that.

Shiro never seemed to get what he wanted.

Whatever happened while he was gone the second time had been rough on Keith, so rough that he’d needed space from the rest of Team Voltron and had gone halfway across the known universe to get it. Shiro had to respect that because what he wanted didn’t matter if Keith didn’t want it, too. He had to trust that Keith would call when he was ready to talk. Or just show up. Preferably the latter.

Even if Keith didn’t need the space right now, Shiro couldn’t risk calling while he was actively on a mission. Even if Keith wasn’t carrying his communicator or had it on silent, he didn’t want to leave another voicemail.

While it made sense, he still couldn’t believe they called it voicemail in space.

“Shiro? You alright?”

Lance. How did Lance always know when something was up? First the headaches and not feeling like himself and now this. He couldn’t let the team think he wasn’t fit to lead; they needed him, and he needed them. He really couldn’t give any hints toward his feelings for Keith. It could ruin everything, his relationship with the team, his friendship with Keith—he’d rather keep the man as a friend than go for it and risk losing Keith’s friendship. Nothing could be worth that, not even peace throughout the universe.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. We should all probably get some rest.”

Shiro stood and the next thing he knew he was on the ground, clutching his head and whimpering in a very unleaderlike fashion. Hands were on him, but he couldn’t tell whose. He only knew that the pressure was unbearable, as were the light and the floor beneath his knees. His life was reduced to a jumble of facts, the disorganized Spark Notes of _The Life and Times of Takeshi Shirogane_ : male; Japanese; probably 26 by now; only child, parents deceased, raised by grandparents who had probably already lost hope; professional astro-explorer, Paladin of Voltron, veteran prisoner of the Galra. Gay as quiznack and in love with his best friend.

It was hard to keep his priorities straight at a time like this.

“Shiro? What’s wrong? What can we do?” Pidge. _Pidge!_

“Keith,” he breathed. “Call…Keith.”

“Of course,” she promised and sprinted for her terminal.

“Coran,” Allura commanded. “Prepare the med bay for an examination. Lotor, get his other arm.”

Strong hands lifted him at either side, and voices continued to exchange nonsense.

“Quiet,” he whimpered, but they didn’t hear him.

Tiny feet pounded down the hallway after them and Shiro winced.

“Keith is on his way. He’s a lot closer than I would’ve expected but I’m not sure about his ETA. He looked upset even before I said you were sick.” She kept her voice mercifully low. Shiro could’ve kissed her if turning wouldn’t have hurt so much. She’d summoned his prince charming like an angel or a fairy godmother, so at least he would have something pretty to look at as he died from the pain.

 

Katie could normally recognize the beginning of a migraine when she saw one—her mother had had plenty after the Kerberos mission had gone south—but this one was odd. Shiro wasn’t acting like this pain was new, which left her wondering how long he had suffered in silence.

Lance and Hunk were already in the med bay with Coran. Hunk was sterilizing and calibrating equipment for the human body as Coran passed it over. Lance was layering plush blankets on the examination table, with plenty more at his feet along with washcloths and two bowls of water—hot and cold, she assumed. Katie hoped that the remedies he was preparing would help.

Shiro tensed as Lotor and Allura let him into the room and he backpedaled. Katie shot around them to try and help. Her leader’s eyes were wide and panicked when he saw the healing pods. He was muttering in a language she only recognized as not of Earth, and then his eyes glazed over and lost their focus.

“Shiro?” Allura asked for the millionth time, loosening her grip and turning. “Shiro, what’s wrong?”

He flung both Allura and Lotor away and turned to run. Katie reacted, her recent training taking over. She jumped onto his back and tried to use her weight to disrupt his balance and pull him to the ground, but she didn’t weigh enough. Either he was a horrible teacher (doubtful) or he’d actually been holding back in her training sessions (highly likely). Whichever way, he dislodged her with ease and threw her hard against the wall.

She heard Lance calling her name before she blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had been planning to wait and post two chapters at once, because I can't stand to leave anybody with a cliffhanger, but I posted multiple chapters of Auntie Pidge within an hour last week and was a little disappointed at the lack of reaction. The reactions I got were great, but there weren't that many...so this may be a little mean? I'll probably cave and put up the next chapter before the end of the night (if I can manage it; it isn't written yet) or by the end of the weekend...I guess we'll see. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Pining Shiro was not as easy for me to write as I thought it would be, but maybe that's because I was also trying to write him suffering from the side effects of Project Kuron? In case anyone is wondering, I DO NOT subscribe to clone theory for a multitude of reasons that I'd be happy to chat with you about in the comments or on Tumblr. Also, my youtube channel is up! I have posted narrations for "The Six Secrets of Pidge," "Familiar Stranger," "Twenty Years in the Making," and "Just Another Thursday Night." Some original works will be coming soon, which of course cannot be accessed through AO3.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCHB8sFJ9oDypDR0WaEeyMzQ/featured?view_as=subscriber  
> lanawrites94.tumblr.com


	7. Kits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krolia recognized her blade the instant it was leveled at her throat but she couldn’t show her distress or confusion, couldn’t wonder why her kit was in the middle of a war zone. He wasn’t supposed to be here, and her heart went cold with the horrors that could have led him to this moment. She hoped desperately that her mate had left Earth with him, that he was back at the base and they could apologize to their kit together for the mess they’d made of his life, and maybe soon the four of them could do things as they always should have done them: together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! I wanted to have this chapter up last weekend, but you can't win them all! Buckle up, because this is where we fully diverge from canon and future seasons probably go out the window. I'm not sure if I'll do another chapter of this one next or switch back to Auntie Pidge, but since Season 6 is so close and this fic will likely be in direct opposition to Season 6, I'm leaning toward this one. But we'll see. I have a date tonight, so I probably won't even try to work on another chapter until after that. Then again, I'm a hopeless mess with an obsession. Good thing he likes Voltron, right? (Haha, it's my fault he likes Voltron.)

Krolia recognized her blade the instant it was leveled at her throat but she couldn’t show her distress or confusion, couldn’t wonder _why_ her kit was in the middle of a war zone. He wasn’t supposed to be here, and her heart went cold with the horrors that could have led him to this moment. She hoped desperately that her mate had left Earth with him, that he was back at the base and they could apologize to their kit together for the mess they’d made of his life, and maybe soon the four of them could do things as they always should have done them: together.

All Krolia saw in her mind’s eye as she led her grown son through the base was his face as a baby, as he smiled up at her or napped with his sister or chattered with his father the way all babies do, regardless of species.

She shook her head. She had to focus. There would be time to reminisce and be shocked and ask questions later. She would _make_ time for all of that _and_ for the explanations her own father owed her.

Then the fight began and he was fierce. Krolia couldn’t stop the swell of pride that rose in her chest alongside the fear. He was fighting the attacking sentries. He was destroying them with her ferocity and his father’s grace. He shouldn’t have known how to do this. She never wanted this for him, for either of her kits. But she and the powers that be had never agreed on much of anything.

As wonderful and terrifying as he was, Keith’s training was incomplete and he was caught while her back was turned. His mask was gone, face set and ready for death. She knew in an instant that her mate was _not_ back at the Blade of Marmora Headquarters, had not been with their son for a very long time. There was no recognition in his eyes. Her son did not know her.

Krolia bargained for his life and held herself steady as he called her out on everything she’d been taught, on the principles she’d once abandoned him for and that she’d never wanted to govern his life.

“I left you once. I’ll _never_ leave you again.”

His confusion broke her heart and Commander Trugg’s vicious grin boiled her blood. Trugg had her life story sketched out in a matter of moments, but in less than half a varga it wouldn’t matter, not if she could count on the other Galra’s greed.

It turned out Trugg’s greed was the most reliable thing about her.

Keith’s anger may have been the most reliable thing about him. Krolia supposed that was probably her fault, all things considered. What she’d done could never be undone; she could never fix the things in his life that had gone wrong while she was gone, but maybe they could salvage something now, be a family now…

“We’re far enough away. They’ve stopped firing at us.”

“I should give this back to you.”

“How were you able to use it?”

“Because it used to be mine… _before_ I gave it to your father.”

“You’re my…?”

Her kit cycled through a vortex of emotions before he turned and hid his face, mask raised.

“So this is why you left? The war with the empire?”

“Yes,” she breathed. They stood in silence until he broke it.

“So…no speech about nobility and sacrifice and the needs of the many? You’re not going to apologize or try to justify yourself?”

“Is there any point?” she asked and cleared her throat. “I’d hoped for years to see you again, but not like this… It’s somewhat overwhelming, seeing you out here, in uniform. I will never find enough words to tell you how sorry I am, and apologies won’t change what happened, but I need you to know…leaving you and your father behind is my single greatest regret, and if I could go back and stay with you, or bring you both with me, I would do it. I would do it in a heartbeat. I don’t expect you to forgive me, now or ever…but when you’re ready I would like the opportunity to tell you my story.”

If the Blade could see her now…Krolia’s voice shook like a newborn kit’s, and it only got worse as her son continued to hide his face.

“Keith?”

He shook his head. “I…I have questions for you. When I got here, met Kolivan and the other Blades, I thought I understood. I figured you left because of duty, and Dad told me you never wanted to leave us…”

His shoulders were shaking just slightly, like he’d spent half his life concealing himself from the world around him and this time it just might be too much. Krolia knew better than to comment; if he was anything like her he would deny it with his dying breath.

“Take all the time you need, but…may I ask you a question?”

He shrugged.

“When were you separated from your father? What happened?”

He stiffened. “That’s two questions.”

“I get the feeling you can’t really answer one without answering the other, anyway.”

“Sure I can. I haven’t seen him since I was eight. How did you know we were separated?”

She smiled sadly, though he couldn’t see. “I left a series of recordings with him, for you when you were old enough to understand. He wouldn’t have just _not_ shown you. That’s not the kind of man he is…”

Keith sighed. “DHR took me away. Dad was sick. He fought to keep me, but he just kept getting worse.  I…I don’t actually _know_ what he had, or where he is now. I went back home as soon as I could and he wasn’t there. Door was unlocked, place was exactly like I remembered but dusty. I tried to look for him, but I couldn’t find out anything. He just disappeared.”

“I…I see… Thank you, Keith.”

He nodded and moved to the pilot’s seat. Their course was set for headquarters already, and the autopilot was engaged. He didn’t need to be there, except there was almost nowhere else to _be_.

Krolia could see his hood and the purple eyes of his mask reflected in the view-screen. It seemed like even the smallest things would break her heart all over again today, but she was a spy, a master of espionage and deception. It was natural by now to pretend nothing phased her. She wasn’t sure if she could have let it show on her face if she tried, so she leaned against the wall, as far away from her son as she could in the tiny escape pod, and coexisted with him in silence, for how long she didn’t know. It could have been dobashes or vargas or maybe even a full quintant before either of them spoke.

“Who’s Alice?” he asked, just as a device she hadn’t noticed on his belt chimed. He jumped and cursed before he pulled it loose and flipped it open. “Kogane.”

“Keith!” someone shrieked, and he nearly dropped the communications device as he fumbled to push back his hood.

“Pidge? What’s going on? Are you guys alright?”

Krolia’s curiosity got the better of her—her mate had always snickered about curiosity and cats, though she had never gotten the joke—and she edged close enough to see a tiny earthling in the orange tinted port, even tinier than her kit, sporting green and white armor and a headful of messy red-brown curls. Based on Keith’s concern, Krolia wondered if her son had already found a prospective mate.

“We’re alright for the most part—we have a _lot_ to catch up on, but I’m sure we’d all rather have that conversation face to face. Either way, that’s not what’s important right now. Something’s wrong with Shiro. They’re taking him to the med bay right now, and he’s asking for you.”

“Coordinates?”

Her kit’s voice was at once flat and tight. Whoever these people were. They were important to him. It warmed and chilled her heart at the same time. She was glad he had people he loved, but it hurt to realize all over again that she didn’t know her son and wasn’t a part of his life.

“I’ve already transmitted them to you. How soon can you head this way?”

“Right now. Kolivan can wait for my report,” he muttered, flicking a thumb across the screen, navigating between programs. “I’m actually really close to you. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay…are you alright? Who’s that with you?”

He shook his head and engaged manual controls, jumping immediately to warp speed. “We have a lot of catching up to do. I’ll fill you all in later. See you then.”

“Okay. Fly safe.”

He ended the call and pushed the ship to go faster.

“Keith? Who was that?”

“Paladins,” he said, not looking at her.

“‘Paladins’? As in, the Paladins of Voltron?”

“Yup.”

“How do you—”

“Because I do.”

Krolia took that as her cue to shut up.

* * *

The castleship was a sight for sore eyes, but Keith couldn’t take the time to appreciate it when Shiro needed him inside. He’d been confused about his feelings for the man for months, but as he hadn’t managed to figure them out yet and had suffered considerably little as a result, he could certainly put his feelings on the backburner until _after_ he’d checked on Shiro and done whatever he could.

No one answered when he radioed in for docking procedures, but he had the access codes to do everything from the outside. He knew they were all probably just hovering around in the med bay, just as concerned for their friend and Black Paladin as he was, so he punched in the access codes and entered the pod bay unassisted. On an ordinary quintant Allura would probably fuss, but he doubted she would even think of it today.

“Keith.”

He turned to look at the woman, the stranger who had his face and eyes, and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Do you want me to stay here?”

He hadn’t been expecting the question. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure he wanted her to see his reunion with his team—he hadn’t spoken with them properly since he left to work with the Blades full time—but he wanted them to find her without him even less, and as intelligent as most of the Blade members were, he had no doubt that she would get lost if she didn’t stick with him.

“No…no, that’s alright. You’re still in a lieutenant’s uniform. I’d rather not risk anyone shooting first and asking questions later.”

She nodded and gestured towards the hangar doors. “Lead the way.”

Keith had expected the halls to be silent, or else to echo with the murmuring of Paladins and medical equipment. Shouts of, “Shiro” and “Pidge” made his blood run cold and he ran, Krolia close on his heels. He ran and arrived at the med bay in ticks to find Shiro struggling against Hunk’s hold, Lance cradling an unconscious Pidge, Bayard aimed and ready, and Allura holding back a seething Galran emperor. Coran stood in the middle of it, arms raised for a fight and his eyes lost and confused, unsure of who he was actually supposed to be fighting.

“Get out of here, witch!” Lotor screeched, beside himself with rage as he tried to free himself from Allura.

Shiro snarled and threw Hunk off him and into a door frame.

“Shiro!” Keith yelled. He didn’t know what else to do. Surely his friend could be reasoned with.

But when Shiro spun and ran at him, his eyes were flat and distant. Shiro wasn’t there, and his beautiful gray eyes did not sparkle like they should have. That terrified Keith and froze him in place, and he might have died if not for Krolia.

She intercepted the charging earthling and flung him to the ground, pinned his flesh-arm behind his back and ripped away the prosthetic with a screech of metal just as it lit up purple. Shiro howled in pain and thrashed.

Keith knelt next to him and tried to touch his face.

“Shiro, what’s wrong? Talk to me!”

There was no recognition there, and Keith recoiled when his mother’s hand slammed into the side of Shiro’s neck, knocking the man unconscious.

She looked around the room as everyone stared at her in stunned silence. “Does that examination table have restraints?”

 

Haggar growled in frustration when the connection was broken. She cared nothing for the comfort of her drafted sleeper agents, but this failure was unacceptable. Evidently the failsafe protocol could only do so much. It was an unfortunate turn of events, and she supposed the pain was a side effect she would have to address in her next subject for Operation Kuron. It wouldn’t do for future victims to be discovered this way. She needed to dispose of this one before they found the implant, but there was no time. All commands for this subject had been relayed through the prosthetic, which had been forcibly removed. She could flip the kill switch to detonate his implant all she wanted, but it would do no good unless she maneuvered her ship within shooting range of the Altean Castleship. While Oriande was the next stop on her flight plan, she was under no illusions that she could get so close to the Paladins of Voltron and make it out alive. She considered her options as she left her private chambers and strode to the bridge. There was one idea in the back of her mind, one that relied heavily on a certain general of whom her son had been rather fond, once upon a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all so much for reading! As always, let me know if my tags are too much or leave something to be desired. Drop a comment to tell me how I'm doing, and check me out on Tumblr and Youtube! Have a great weekend!
> 
> lanawrites94.tumblr.com  
> https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCHB8sFJ9oDypDR0WaEeyMzQ?view_as=subscriber


	8. Space Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Coran takes care of his space children, and Lotor learns what friends are for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! So my plan was to put out a few chapters before Season Six drops this weekend, but that isn't going to happen unless I don't sleep at all for the rest of this week. And maybe get a time turner. On that note, I'm not going to be watching it until Saturday, so don't be surprised if you don't hear from me between Thursday and Sunday. I definitely hope we all enjoy it, don't die of angst, and maybe get our plance watered. That would be nice.
> 
> Also, I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter. It took two weeks and 21 pages of dwindling space in my notebook to figure out what I actually wanted to get out of this chapter.

Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe had vowed after his 10,000-year stint in the chryopod that he would not love again.

 

He had loved Altea with all of his heart and served faithfully for his entire adult life at the cost of his personal dreams. Altea was gone now.

 

He had loved Alfor, who had been his king and his best friend. Alfor was gone, too, as was his queen who had been as a sister to Coran.

 

He had loved a woman, too, but he had chosen to serve his king instead because they had their whole lives, and now like the rest she was lost to time, space, and tragedy.

 

All he had left was Allura. She had become his favorite person in the universe the very moment he first saw her smile as an infant, and he’d been wrapped around her little finger ever since. Losing her would kill him. He couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be if something new to love crept into his life. These new Paladins were young, but he was sure he could manage, could give them the technical support they needed without further compromising his already broken heart. He ranked them by height in lieu of learning their names. It did nothing. Two movements in, Lance saved him from a bomb and they all became his precious alien space-children and he would die to protect them as readily as he would for Allura.

 

Before the fall of Altea he had cared for the survivors of much bloodier battles than this one and mourned the loss of soldiers and friends alike whom he’d known his whole life. By all rights, this _skirmish_ shouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest. There were no fatalities—a blessing in and of itself—and barely a pint of the earthlings’ odd red blood had been spilled, yet he had Paladins down. None of them had expected an attack from one of their own. Never from Shiro. Coran wasn’t sure how the team would recover from such a blow, wasn’t sure they could. He was grateful for the presence of the strange Galra woman who had arrived with Keith. With Allura busy restraining their political ally elsewhere and both of the other still-conscious Paladins nearly incapacitated with worry, Coran had needed an extra pair of hands, which she’d readily supplied. He could wonder who she was later.

 

He watched as she gently but efficiently hoisted Shiro from the floor to the examination table for the restraints and then went to check on Hunk. Coran had no idea if he could actually trust her, but he was all but certain that Pidge was in the most danger, if Lance’s babbling in the corner was any indication.

 

“C’mon, Pidge. Wake up. _Dios_ , that’s a lot of blood. Pidge—”

 

Coran settled at Pidge’s side and across from Lance, studying her intently. “Where all did she hit?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Did you see what parts of her hit the wall? How about the floor?”

 

“Oh.” Lance’s voice shook with just the one word. Coran hated to make him focus on anything right now, but Pidge didn’t have time for Lance to be coddled. “Uh. I think she hit her head on the wall. And her everything on the floor.”

_Wonderful. Quiznacking wonderful._

 

“Go get one of the chryosuits,” Coran ordered as he started removing her armor. This was going to be a big job, but at least it would be easier than when Lance had been knocked unconscious by the bomb back on Arus. She weighed less and there would be significantly less body to wrestle into the other suit.

 

“Huh? Why can’t she just use the one she’s wearing?”

 

“Because the other one is designed to work with the pod to heal her. In this suit she’ll only be in stasis and won’t get any recuperating done.”

 

Lance immediately stood and tore through drawers, looking for a suit small enough for his teammate.

 

The Galra woman appeared out of nowhere, taking Lance’s just-vacated spot and started stripping armor from Pidge’s other side.

 

“The big one, is restrained,” she said. “Keith is keeping an eye on him, and the yellow one. There’s nothing serious wrong with him. He just needs to sleep. Concussion for this one?”

 

“Most likely,” Coran agreed, moving down to the girl’s shin guards. “She’ll be fine after a few vargas in the pod.”

 

Lance returned quickly, bearing a suit for Pidge and trailing perhaps a dozen more behind him. Coran supposed he could deal with that later. Once his Paladins were all taken care of. He was slightly concerned by the sideways glare leveled at Lance by the Galra woman, but probably more than he should have been. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t favor Lance over the other Paladins—well, he could, but it would be the biggest lie he’d ever told. He was especially fond and protective of the young man whether or not he would admit it. Coran had more than once wondered if it was because of the vague similarities between Lance and his lady love of ten thousand years previous. The Blue Paladin had a similar coloring to hers and his eyes were the same disconcerting combination of beady and expressive. With his deep teal Altean markings, Coran could almost pretend that he and his lady love had gotten the future they’d wanted after all. But he couldn’t lose himself in old dreams of fatherhood, not when his space-children needed him.

 

* * *

 

 

Lotor struggled against Allura’s vicelike grip as she dragged him bodily from the med bay. He hadn’t been expecting her strength and wasn’t actually sure he could break her hold. Which he desperately needed to. The witch had done it again. She’d lured to her service yet another person he’d considered a friend. He’d thought he might be making progress with the other Paladins _because_ of Shiro, and now that was gone. Shiro had betrayed them all. Lotor had to take him out before he could tell Haggar anything more.

 

But he couldn’t break free of Allura’s hold.

 

He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

 

He’d dispatched Narti the moment he’d realized her betrayal, and then everything had fallen apart.

 

His eyes stung.

 

He would not cry.

 

He _could_ not cry, not in front of anyone. Not in front of Allura. She had already shown that she was different from the people he had been surrounded by his whole life, yet he still was convinced. She would never respect him as an equal if he lost his composure in such a way.

 

She dragged him through a door that sealed behind them, and he vaguely recognized the room as a library.

 

“Lotor, talk to me. Are you hurt?”

 

He wanted to laugh but fought down the urge, shaking his head instead.

 

“Do you have any idea what happened back there?”

 

“Yes. Your Black Paladin has betrayed you to Haggar. I recognize the signs. One of my own generals fell to her seduction not too long ago.”

 

Allura shook her head, eyes wide. “No. That can’t be true. There must be some other explanation.”

 

Lotor smiled sadly. “I wish there was, Princess. But I promise you, the witch will pay for what she’s done.”

 

“She will pay,” Allura agreed. “But I will not believe that Shiro has betrayed us. The witch has taken everything from him. _Twice._ He would never throw in with her, and I will prove it.”

 

Lotor sighed. “Either way, he’s lucky you’re stronger than I am.” He tried not to sound bitter. His being physically weaker than everyone around him had been his reality for his entire existence. “I would have killed him already, otherwise.”

 

“Now I don’t believe that for a tick, either.”

 

“What? That I would have killed him? You’ve _seen_ me kill, Princess. It’s not exactly something I’m incapable of.”

 

She took his hands in hers and studied his perpetually gloved fingers. Lotor knew he should have pulled away immediately, but he couldn’t bear to step back. Casual contact was a thing he’d never been allowed as a child and something he’d shunned as an adult for fear of his father’s attention. But Zarkon was gone now, slain by Lotor’s own hand, and this was so easy with Allura, so natural. Touch-starved as he was, he thought he could be happy if no one but Allura touched him for the rest of his life.

 

“No,” she said softly. “I don’t believe that I’m stronger than you are. Your physical ‘weakness’ is a myth that’s been pushed on you, just like the idea that only being half-Galra somehow made you less than your peers. The only difference is that your weakness is a fiction you internalized before you could reject it.”

 

Lotor started at their hands. He wanted to intertwine their fingers, bring hers to his lips, but she would notice. Every passing moment increased the likelihood. Objectively he knew that Allura wouldn’t care, wouldn’t think any differently of him, yet he feared her derision.

 

He felt the moment she made the connection, felt her fingers tighten around his right hand, though he couldn’t _really_ feel it with his left.

 

“I see. It’s no wonder…may I ask? When did she take it?”

 

Lotor tried to focus on the facts of his memories and not the pain. He failed.

 

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “It was before I was allowed to supervise that mining colony, so before I was exiled—maybe…seven? Yes, around seven thousand years ago.”

 

He watched Allura’s mouth drop open. He thought she must have realized _this_ tidbit already, but he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it.

 

“Lotor,” she said, looking at his hands again. “How long have you been so alone?”

 

He shook his head. “All my life. The only times I’ve ever truly not felt alone…have been times I spent with you.”

 

A finger wiped the skin of his cheek. “You never have to be alone again, you know?” He looked up at her and was met with a shy smile. “You have a friend in me, Lotor, and soon you will have the other Paladins as well.”

 

He forced a watery chuckle. “I highly doubt that. The yellow one still distrusts me. The blue one outright hates me. The green one was ready to trade my life for her father’s.”

 

“Give them time…You could start reaching out to them by learning their names.”

 

“I know their names,” he muttered, glancing away. “Is ‘Pidge’ short for something?”

 

Allura shook her head. “No, it’s a nickname for which she refuses to share the origin story. Just give them time. Hunk is only cautious because the last time we trusted someone immediately we nearly lost the Blue Lion. Lance is…Lance. He can be a bit of a jealous protector when it comes to his friends, and I can guarantee you he would be easier to deal with if there weren’t whispers of a…uh, _matrimonial_ alliance being good for the Coalition. He’s only concerned for me…and Pidge…

 

“Pidge was not thinking clearly when that discussion happened. I’m afraid none of us were. She has had a very different relationship with her father than either of us could ever imagine. I loved my father dearly, but I had to share his time with the planet he ruled and the universe he defended. Commander Holt is a renowned scientist on Earth, and his mission to Kerberos where he was captured wasn’t his first trip off-world, but when he wasn’t exploring their solar system he never had so much on his plate to steal his attention from his children.”

 

“What must that have been like, having a sibling,” Lotor wondered.

 

Allura smiled sadly. “I know what you mean. I think most of the Paladins have siblings—Lance appears to have a lot of them. I envy them for it sometimes, but there’s nothing to be done for it, now.”

 

Lotor cleared his throat and pulled a hand away to check his face for more traitorous tears.

 

“You know it’s alright to cry, don’t you?”

 

Lotor shook his head, eyes tightly shut. He would not. He would _not_.

 

“May I embrace you?” she asked.

 

His shoulders shook, and Allura evidently interpreted that as an affirmative because she pulled him close and wrapped her arms around his back.

 

“I believe the earthlings call this a ‘hug.’ We had a different word for it on Altea, but I’ve found the therapeutic value to be unbound by cultural boundaries,” she murmured in his ear. One hand left his back to stroke his hair. “Just hold on to me and let it out. You are not alone anymore, Lotor.”

 

He did not “let it out,” but he did sink into the embrace. He could not lose his composure, but he could take a moment to experience this closeness that he hadn’t previously felt enough to miss. Really. What harm could it do?

 

* * *

 

 

Shiro’s prosthetic was damaged beyond repair, but Coran supposed that may have been for the best. Until they understood what was going on, it was better to keep the Black Paladin as harmless as possible. If they were lucky, its forced removal wouldn’t have caused any nerve damage, but again, Coran had no idea what the next few hours held in store for Team Voltron. He hated to think what it could mean to lose their Black Paladin now.

 

“Scans show hardware attached to his spinal column that is not necessary for controlling the prosthetic as far as I can tell,” the Galra woman said.

 

Coran looked at her in alarm. “Then what’s it for?”

 

She raised her eyebrows in a way that greatly reminded him of his Prodigal Paladin. “We can’t know for sure without testing, but its overlay would suggest it is designed to link with all sensory nerves without interfering with normal bodily function. And they’re designed to be nearly invisible. The scanner just barely registered it.”

 

Coran frowned. “We’ll have to take a closer look at that, but it may require his cooperation.”

 

She sighed. “I sincerely hope not.”

 

Coran reached out a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I am Coran, royal advisor to the late King Alfor of Altea.”

 

She shook his hand, looking mildly amused. “Krolia, former lieutenant-commander to General Ranveig, deep cover operative for the Blade of Marmora. For now.”

 

“Oh? And how do you know Keith?”

 

Krolia grimaced. “I don’t think either of us are prepared to answer that question more than once.”

 

Coran frowned. “Oh, now you _have_ to tell me or I’m just going to wonder. You have to give me something!”

 

She glared. “Fine. I’m his mother.” Before Coran could retrieve his jaw off the floor, she gestured toward the single occupied pod and the two Paladins who sat at its base. “Tell me. How did three earthlings—one with a druidic arm—my son, and a _very_ young non-royal Altean become Paladins of Voltron?”

 

 

“Ah, well, you see, the Blue Lion was hidden on their planet—”

 

“Yes, what was your king thinking, hiding the _Blue_ Lion on _the_ blue planet? I met Keith’s father because I was updating the equipment we installed to prevent the empire from finding it.”

 

“Oh…Well, I really don’t know how to answer your question if you already knew that part. I haven’t quite figured it out myself. Lance—the one with the Altean markings—was chosen as the Blue Paladin, though he’s currently piloting the Red Lion because life got _really_ complicated for a little while. I’m still a little fuzzy on why they were all together and looking for the Blue Lion in the first place, but…maybe we could ask _them_ once they’re all awake.”

 

“Alright. Why was an Altean on Earth?”

 

“Oh, Lance is actually an earthling, too, and thanks to him we have evidence that a sizable population of Alteans may have escaped Zarkon’s genocide and found refuge on Earth. He didn’t have those markings when he got here. They appeared after he’d already been a Paladin for some time, the genes awakened by exposure to Altean technology, specifically because he was goofing around with Allura’s command center, but his DNA measures somewhere around 63% Altean. The Princess is quite excited to visit Earth, should the opportunity arise.”

 

Krolia continued to watch the Paladins curiously. “Okay. And what’s going on between my kit and the little green one? Why does Lance also make moon eyes over her?”

 

If Coran had been drinking anything, Krolia would now be wearing it. As it was, he spluttered and drew the attention of the Blue/Red and Red/Black Paladins. He forced a smile and waved Shiro’s broken prosthetic at them. They quickly looked away from him.

 

Coran cleared his throat when he caught the Galra woman’s stare. “Er…as far as I know, Keith and Pidge are only friends. Of the three younger Paladins she was the most supportive of him learning more about his heritage. The other two didn’t treat him badly over it. Lance especially didn’t actually care, but neither of them were sure how to talk with him about it because we’re kind of fighting the Galra empire but they didn’t want to just pretend it wasn’t a thing,” he added quickly, “but Pidge was the quickest of the three to adjust to the new information, and she definitely mentioned to me that she wanted to help him with some research if she ever has the time. As for Lance, I’m fairly certain he’s making moon eyes over her because he’s enamored by her. As per my observations, Keith’s moon eyes are reserved for Shiro—this one,” he said, patting the unconscious man’s shoulder lightly. “What made you think he liked Pidge?”

 

“He was flustered when she contacted him, but I suppose that could have been because he’d only just learned who I am to him…biologically speaking.”

 

Coran nodded thoughtfully. “He hasn’t been very open with anyone except maybe Shiro about his past, but given his reaction to learning he was half-Galra—”

 

“Quarter-Galra.”

 

“Uh… given his reaction to learning he was part-Galra, I assumed he at least knew you were not human, but I suppose it would still make sense if you left him with his father before he could form lasting memories.”

 

Krolia flinched. “There was a war going on. I’d already been missing in action for a decade.”

 

“Please don’t feel like you have to explain yourself to me,” Coran said gently. “I understand duty better than most, and it took me away from a woman I loved and the chance to be a father…I’m glad you were able to leave the fight for as long as you did. Keith is a very special young man, and we don’t tell him that nearly enough. We’re lucky to have him as part of our little family.”

 

Krolia frowned, looked at the unconscious Paladin between them, and scratched her head. “So this is the object of my kit’s affections? I can’t say I don’t approve—he looks a bit like my mate…but what kind of a name is ‘Shiro’?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, I think it’s short for something, and it’s definitely not from the language that the Paladins all speak casually—as I understand it, all five of them speak at least two. Lance tried demonstrating his ‘first language’ for me, but it sounded just the same through the Castleship’s translators.” He chuckled a moment before he froze. “But, uh, Madame Krolia? I don’t know if Keith has realized himself that he makes moon eyes at Shiro, and from what I understand Earth still suffers a little from some blight called ‘herteronorma-something’, so…”

 

She nodded, a small smile on her lips. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything unless he comes to me first. I doubt we’ll be close enough to talk about cute boys for a while anyway.”

 

Coran snorted. It was nice not being the only _real_ adult on the Castleship for a change. He loved each of his Paladins dearly, but it just wasn’t the same.

  

* * *

 

 

“Hey, Keith?”

 

Keith turned to see his former teammate shaking a little, back pressed against an empty pod and eyes trained on the one in use. “Yeah?”

 

“Do you think she’s gonna be alright?”

 

Keith glanced at Pidge’s face, serene in her artificial coma despite the tracks of dried blood that framed her eyes. “The pods have never failed us before.” _At least a pod can fix what’s wrong with her._

 

Lance blinked rapidly and buried his face in his knees. “You’re right,” he said, voice somewhat muffled. “I’m being stupid. Altean tech. Seems it can fix anything… If she were out here and it was me in there she’d probably be trying to convince Coran to let her take it apart and put it back together again so she can learn how it works, wouldn’t she? Then again, she probably did that the first time, huh?

 

“Actually, no. She had her face pressed up against the glass for most of it. We were all really worried about you. She asked questions when Shiro was in there, but she never tried to dismantle it—probably because Coran gave her a copy of the specs.”

 

Keith glanced at the younger teen again to find him watching their injured friend in wonder. “Pidge was worried about me?”

 

_Yeah. Even I know your over-the-top crush goes both ways, genius._

 

“No. She didn’t want to have to find another Blue Paladin. Of course she was worried about you. Why wouldn’t she have been?”

 

“I was kind of a super annoying flirt all the time back then. And really dumb. I thought she was a boy until she told me she wasn’t for crying out loud!”

 

“In your defense, I knew her brother at the Garrison and had to hear about every science fair she won. And Hunk read her diary.”

 

“What about Coran and Allura?”

 

“The mice probably told Allura, and Coran was probably only pretending he knew.”

 

“And Shiro?”

 

“He spent how long in space with her dad and brother? I bet Matt had a whole album full of pictures, knowing him. Shiro probably saw all of them a dozen times before they even passed Mars.”

 

“Wait a second. You’re friends with Matt?”

 

“Uh, kind of.”

 

“Then do you know where the nickname came from?”

 

“I’m sworn to secrecy.”

 

“C’mon, dude!”

 

“Sorry, buddy. It’s not going to happen.”

 

Coran spluttered over by the examination table and they both turned to see what happened. Coran waved at them awkwardly with Shiro’s thoroughly destroyed prosthetic and they both quickly looked _anywhere_ else.

 

“How terrible a person am I if all I can think of right now is that one scene in _Toy Story_? I really just want to see Shiro having a tea party and calling himself ‘Mrs. Nesbitt’.”

 

“Pretty terrible,” Keith said. “But now that you’ve said it, I kind of want to see it, too.”

 

They laughed so hard they cried, and then Lance was hiding his face in his knees again, focused intently on his breathing.

 

“You know,” Keith said hesitantly, stealing another glance toward the central examination table. “I think it’s alright for you to be upset—I know I am. The guy we’ve both looked up to since before flight school just—and your best friend is out cold and Pidge is in a pod. It’s upsetting stuff, and…I won’t tell anybody if you need to cry for a minute.”

 

Lance looked up at him jerkily, eyes brimming and startled. “What?”

 

“Dude, I hate to burst your bubble, but that rivalry stuff? I never…that was all you. It’s not that I never noticed you or disliked you. I’m just not exactly a ‘social butterfly,’ and it felt like you were always trying to pick a fight with me, and when you’re not trying to pick a fight with me I don’t hate you. And this thing with Shiro…God. Can we just start over and try to be friends this time? I know we were making progress before, but I probably royally screwed that up when I left, so…”

 

Lance stared for a moment more before he smirked. “Wow. Who’d’ve thought you finding your mom would turn you into such a chatter box? I think that’s the most I’ve heard you speak in…ever.”

 

It was Keith’s turn to stare. “What? How did you know?”

 

Lance’s soft smile _really_ threw him for a loop, and he continued to stare as Lance wiped the moisture from his eyes.

 

“She looks like you but with better eyebrows and purple skin. There’s no way you aren’t related.”

 

“We don’t look anything alike.”

 

“When we were all trying to rescue Shiro in the desert, how did you eventually recognize me?”

 

“Your voice? What does that have to do with anything?”

 

“Do you recognize my face now?”

 

“No,” Keith said warily. “I generally go by either your jacket or your armor if I can’t hear you.”

 

“And Pidge?”

 

“I don’t know anyone else that short.”

 

“Hunk?”

 

“He always smells like food. Do you have a point?”

 

“Yeah. There’s this psychological phenomena called prosopagnosia—basically your brain just isn’t wired to recognize faces. I have a nephew who’s on the spectrum and he’s like that so we always wear color-coded stuff when he comes to visit. I saw you stimming a while back when you were stressed out—that thing you’re doing with your fingers right now—and I realized that maybe I was being a jerk this whole time and maybe you just didn’t know how to interact with people and I’m sorry. I should have apologized a long time before now, but I was embarrassed and didn’t know where to start…so if you can forgive me, I’d really like to start over and be friends this time.”

 

Keith had already known he had face blindness and a few other…quirks. He just didn’t realize it wasn’t obvious to everyone else. Lance’s info dump left him somewhat overwhelmed but he smiled just the same. It was nice to maybe have a new friend.

 

“Okay so now I have to ask because I’ve been biting my tongue for ages. Are you and Shiro an item? Because you act like you are and honestly I kind of ship it.”

_What the quiznack?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I know I'm /way/ overdue for a chapter from Hunk's POV, but hear me out, guys. I have OCD. Like, no exaggeration, I take medication for it, see a therapist regularly, have a /service dog/ to help me deal with the symptoms in public, etc. And I studied Anthropology in college. In fact, I minored in it. I may have double majored if I'd realized that was an option sooner than I did. Hunk is Samoan and therefore of a culture that I know next to nothing about, beyond men tend to do most of the cooking, which is a tidbit I picked up on tumblr and haven't fact checked and therefore do not consider reliable. It's been more subtle in some chapters than others, but the theme I'm trying to explore in every chapter is heritage, origin, where have these people come from, and how has that affected their personal growth. For example, in ch. 4 we looked at effects of Keith's Christian upbringing on him now, especially now that he's realizing that he's attracted to Shiro and therefore outside of heteronormativity. In chapter 3 with Pidge, we looked through Lance's eyes at Pidge's experience with bullying and also with her family. I have no idea how well my exploration of these themes has come across to you the reader, but that's what I've been going for. As of right now, I am a college graduate, which means I no longer have access to the same resources I had for anthropological research. I REALLY don't want to write from Hunk's point of view without doing that research because I know nothing about Samoan culture and I don't trust the touristy websites or Wikipedia, which is all I've found so far. So if I do eventually write a chapter from Hunk's POV, know that it will be a well-researched chapter, but I personally am not holding my breath. 
> 
> To clarify, this is me letting my anxiety get the better of me and trying to explain myself when it /probably/ isn't actually necessary.
> 
> As always, let me know if my tags are too much or leave something to be desired. (I would really like to know, would y'all characterize this as a slow-burn by now?) Come visit with me on tumblr or YouTube! I have the same username pretty much everywhere. Also, I have no posted a recording of the first chapter of this story on my YouTube channel. I'd really appreciate feedback on my recording and editing because I have almost no idea what I'm doing!
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter, my dears!
> 
> lanawrites94.tumblr.com  
> https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCHB8sFJ9oDypDR0WaEeyMzQ?view_as=subscriber


	9. Whoops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lot's of Paladins make a whoopsie. Lance and Lotor turn it into a bonding moment." - winterfawkes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all. If you don't follow me on tumblr then you don't know the main reason this chapter is so late. Season 6 screwed up all of my plans and I don't believe in ritconning. I was going to completely ignore it but then most of it was too perfect to ignore. And Kuron broke my heart.  
> Additionally, July is a hard month for my family as this past Thursday is the anniversary of my poppaw's passing. Working on this chapter has been a good distraction to keep my grief from overwhelming me, but I didn't fully believe my betareader winterfawkes (who graciously provided our chapter summary) when he told me it was a good chapter until about five minutes ago. I haven't decided yet if I will focus only on Heritage between now and the release of season 7 or if I will continue to alternate between this and Auntie Pidge. Hopefully you guys will have the answer to that within the next week or so!  
> As always, please let me know if my tags are too much or if they leave something to be desired. And let me know how I'm doing with the story! Happy reading!

The first thing Shiro became aware of was freedom. For the first time in months his head didn’t hurt, though he dimly expected the pain to return as he drew nearer to consciousness.

The second thing he noticed was the weight he felt all over his body and the tightness around his chest, ankles, and the wrist of his human hand.

He was bound.

Shiro’s eyes flew open and he gasped. He tried to sit up, to fly to his feet, but it was so much wasted effort. The restraints were as good as they ever were and he looked wildly around for his tormentor the Witch. She had to be nearby, ready to mock him for believing in such an impossible dream—

“Easy there, number one,” Coran said, gently rubbing Shiro’s shoulder. “What do you remember?”

Shiro made an effort to slow his breathing. Coran was right there. The Witch was not. He was in the med bay of the Castle of Lions.

He was home.

He was safe.

There was nothing to worry about.

Shiro took several deep breaths and opened his eyes again, unsure when they closed, and assessed his situation. He was tied down in the med bay, restrained to the point that all he could really move was his head. He probably just had a training accident and Coran didn’t want him to hurt himself when he came to. But if he’d had an accident bad enough for him to be tied down, why could he still move his head? Why could he feel his toes? Why was he waking up on a table instead of stumbling out of a pod?

Coran still stood over him, brow creased in thought.

“What happened?” Shiro asked, wincing as his voice cracked. His throat was dry like he hadn’t been breathing well, but that made sense given how the Guardian of Oriande had tried to kill them.

“What do you remember, Shiro?” Coran asked again.

“Nothing since the White Hole,” he said, glancing around without turning his head, looking for his team. He couldn’t see anyone else. “Allura restored power to the castle, and we were getting ready to leave…I had a headache, but it’s gone now.”

Coran was frowning, watching Shiro with an intensity that left the Paladin warry.

“Can you, uh…tell me what I missed? I don’t remember anything else. My shoulder and neck are sore. My first thought was a training accident, but wouldn’t I at least remember walking to the training deck or deciding to spar if that were the case…”

Coran sighed. “So you _don’t_ remember fighting against Allura and Lotor in the doorway and throwing Pidge into the wall?”

Shiro’s mouth fell open and he stared at his friend for a moment. “Of course I don’t remember that, because it would never happen.”

“But it did happen, Shiro.”

Shiro’s heart thudded back into overdrive. “Keith?”

“I’m here.”

There was a rustle and Shiro turned his head further to see Keith rising from the floor in front of an occupied pod.

The only occupied pod.

Shiro couldn’t look to see who was in there. It couldn’t be—

Keith made his way to Shiro just as he noticed Lance, hovering warily between Shiro and the pod.

“Keith,” Shiro plead. “You know me. I would never hurt Pidge.”

Keith heaved a sigh and blocked the pod from view. “I don’t believe you’d ever willingly hurt her, but I know what I saw. Her blood is still on the floor, Takashi.”

Shiro’s eyes welled with tears and he struggled against the restraints. He couldn’t let Keith’s distrust stand for another minute, not after everything Keith had been through. He couldn’t let it stand for his own sake either—he thought his heart might shatter if he lost Keith over this. He had to prove he was innocent. When the restraints didn’t give, he activated his prosthetic to burn them away.

But nothing happened.

“Your arm is gone,” Keith said, barely whispered. “Give it up. You’re not getting up off that table unless we let you.”

“But I didn’t hurt her! Why _would I_ hurt her?”

“We’ve been wondering the same thing,” Lance called from by the pod. “She’ll be out soon, and she’ll probably want that answer, too.”

Shiro shook his head. “No. Keith. You have to believe me. I would never hurt her. I would never hurt anyone on the team; they’re my family! And even if they weren’t, that would hurt you and I could never do that. I love you, Keith.”

Shiro couldn’t believe he’d let those words slip. He could have just destroyed their friendship, but it may have been ruined anyway. He couldn’t fathom how this happened, why he might have treated Katie Holt like a rag doll, and especially why he had no memory of it. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense except the way Keith was staring at him, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, breathing uneven.

Yeah, he’d definitely ruined everything.

Footsteps sounded down the hall and an unfamiliar voice came from the doorway.

“Keith? I know you wanted to wait on your friend, but I just gave my report to Kolivan and we have another mission. …What’s going on in here?”

“Unexpected confession,” Coran said. “He’s just shocked. He’ll be fine. But you probably shouldn’t keep Kolivan waiting.” There was a patting sound, presumably Coran’s hand against Keith’s shoulder. “Run along, number four. I’m sure we can handle things for a quintant or two. We’re heading back to Galra HQ as it is. Let me know when you’re done with your mission, eh?”

Keith didn’t respond, but Shiro caught his dazed expression as he stumbled out of the room, following the strange woman, presumably another Blade.

“What’s going on here, for real?” Shiro asked.

“Hmm? Oh. You just confessed your love to Keith, who appears to have still been in denial about his feelings for you.”

“Feelings for me?”

“Yes, Shiro, keep up. Everyone else can see it. From what I understand Pidge has been taking bets on how long it will take the two of you to get together. She stands to make a great deal of GAC if—but I can’t tell you that. It’ll ruin her odds. Nevermind.”

“I don’t think that’s what he was asking about, Coran,” Lance said.

Shiro turned his head to look at his friend—Lance was still his friend, right?—and saw the young man leaning against the pod, arms crossed, eyes trained on the floor. He pointedly avoided looking beyond Lance and into the pod. It couldn’t be true. He wouldn’t have—

“We’ve already said it, man, but I’ll say it again. You threw Pidge into a wall. Hunk, too. Keith’s m—teammate. From the Blades. Ripped your arm off when you tried to attack Keith and then she knocked you out. Pidge has a concussion and a laceration on her head where she hit the wall. Hunk only got knocked out, so he’s just sleeping it off. But you could have killed her, Shiro. And it came out of nowhere. How are we supposed to trust you now?”

The pod hissed and Lance stepped out and spun in one graceful motion to catch the smallest Paladin as she stumbled free from the enclosed space, disoriented and weak. Lance wrapped her in a hug and buried his nose in her hair. Shiro could vaguely hear him muttering from here—probably in Spanish, and Shiro hoped that it wasn’t anything that would get him in trouble if the translators caught it.

“When did that happen?” Shiro asked Coran, who just shrugged his shoulders.

“Technically speaking, I don’t think it has happened _yet_.”

“How long until she punches him?”

“Oh, I don’t think she will this time, but we’ll see.”

“Five GAC says she does,” Shiro murmured.

Coran snorted. “Five GAC it is.”

She didn’t punch him, but she did wrap her arms around his waist for a moment before she pushed him away. “Let me breathe, Lance,” she said, her face growing steadily more crimson. Then she saw Shiro and frowned. “There were suspicious codes in your arm when I last examined it. I’m going to look at them again as soon as I can. Do you have anything to say before I do, Shirogane?”

Shiro’s tears finally spilled over as he caught sight of the dried blood that started on her forehead and ran down the side of her face. He had seen Katie bruised and bloodied before, but this… He would never have tried to hurt her. But clearly _someone_ had, and no one would claim he’d done it if he really hadn’t.

“I don’t know what happened, Pidge. I have no memory of it, but I am so sorry for _everything_. I will do anything to regain your trust. Anything you need for your investigation, you will have my full cooperation. If there’s anything I can do…please tell me.”

She nodded, tried to walk out of the room, and promptly stumbled. Lance caught her, steadied her, and helped her into the hall.

Shiro was certain his heart would break any minute now.

“Er, Pidge?” Coran called after her, waving Shiro’s mangled prosthetic like an extension of his own body. “The arm is right—ah.  I’ll just run this down to her lab, I suppose,” he murmured, tucking the arm behind his back and making to follow them out. “I’ll be back in a tick, Shiro,” he said.

Shiro knew it would be more like half a varga. But it was for the best. He’d cried enough in front of his team today. It was stupid, but he really didn’t want anyone to see him break down now. 

* * *

 

Katie’s cheeks were still burning when she reached her room and stripped out of the white body suit. She’d thought she was dreaming when she’d come out of the pod—it had to be a dream, since Lance was the one waiting to catch her and because of the way he’d hugged her and spoken so tenderly.

“ _Gracias a dios que estas bien, cariño.”_

Thank God you’re alright.

She wasn’t sure if she’d understood his Spanish or if the translators had been working against them, even as quietly as he’d spoken, but he’d definitely said those words, and believing she’d been dreaming, she’d told him “Thank God you’re here to catch me when I fall,” and she’d hugged him back, pressed her face into his chest and smelled…

…a Lance who hadn’t showered. In her dreams he always smelled like sea water, not sweat. She’d tried to push him away and pretend like nothing happened, but she saw the glee in Coran’s eyes and the sorrow in Shiro’s when she spoke to him. She didn’t want to believe he’d betrayed them, but she didn’t know what else to think. Either way, she wouldn’t believe he’d done it by choice. There was no way that Takashi Shirogane would ever have willingly gone over to The Dark Side™. A frustrated growl tore through her chest and she threw open her closet. She had to get to the bottom of this, and God help any dissenting Galra factions that tried to get in her way.

There was a tentative knock at her door. “Pidge? Are you alright?”

Katie jumped. “Yeah,” she called, barely toning back her anger and frustration as she ripped out a green t-shirt and a pair of gray sweats. “I’ll be right there.”

True to her word she was soon stumbling out of her room and into Lance’s waiting arms for the third time that day. She couldn’t believe herself.

“Whoa. No hurry, Pidge. You just got out of a pod. We don’t need you tripping and having to go right back in!”

She tried to smile as he steadied her and she stepped back, but she was quiznacking embarrassed. She was a Paladin of Voltron. She didn’t need some knight in shining armor to save her from anything, least of all from sleep-chamber knees. “Thanks,” she mumbled, not looking at him.

There was a moment of quiet broken only by the hum of the castle before Lance clapped his hands together. “So…food first. Then do you want a nap or—”

“I want to take a closer look at Shiro’s arm,” she reminded him. “Where’s Hunk?”

“Uh…Hunk got hurt, too. He’s asleep for now.”

She didn’t answer, instead making a beeline for the elevator.

“Oh no. Just where do you think you’re going?” Lance asked, catching her elbow but holding on just tight enough for her to notice, not enough to actually restrain her.

“My lab? I need to get a move on.”

“Nope. We’re getting some food in you first, _pequeña paloma_. Do you know how many calories you burn in the pods? You don’t eat enough as it is.” He readjusted his grip on his arm so as to guide her back the other way. “But I promise I won’t tell on you if you want to get it to-go and work while you eat.”

“What did you just call me?”

“What? _Paloma_? It’s just Spanish for pigeon, Pidge. Well—tiny pigeon, technically.”

Katie frowned at him but couldn’t maintain it long. “Fine,” she murmured, allowing him to lead her to the kitchens for a bowl of food goo.

 

Katie couldn’t fathom why Lance felt the need to stay in the lab with her, but he did. Probably just to make sure she ate, she told herself. That had to be it. He was just concerned for his friend and teammate. Nothing special.

“So…what were you talking about with Shiro? Suspicious codes in his arm?”

Katie let out an explosive sigh and ceased her typing, frowning when Lance nudged her bowl of food goo closer. “Do you remember when Shiro was in the pod after we rescued Allura and were scattered to the cosmos and all that jazz?”

“Of course?”

“And how when he got out he was asking me to look for the coordinates that Ulaz left for him?”

“I seem to vaguely remember you having a bunch of wires hooked up to him in impossible places. Continue.”

“Well, I found some anomalous data in his coding that was more than a little superfluous, even for a fully functioning and weaponized prosthetic. I didn’t study it too closely or figure out what it was meant to do, but it is Galra tech designed by Haggar. So I created a virus to terminate all of its command prompts just in case. Right now I need to take a closer look at the coding and figure out what it was created to do.”

“Wait a second. You created a virus to take out Shiro’s arm because it was a little fishy, but you didn’t tell anyone about it?”

Katie looked away. “I was bored when I decided to do it, and I’d been thinking about my dad a lot that day… You know, he and my mom were both really busy with work all the time, but they put Matt and I through the scouting program anyway, volunteered as much time as they could. It was so important to him that we had that experience, and the motto stuck with me. ‘Always be prepared.’ So I made a contingency plan for something I never thought was going to happen. But do you want to know what’s killing me right now? I was prepared for that witch to have a way to turn him against us. I was prepared for a covert cyber-attack, but she came at us physically, and I wasn’t ready for that. I was down within the first minute and utterly useless.”

Lance put a hand on her shoulder and she looked up, only just noticing the angry tears leaking from her eyes when he offered a tissue. His smile was warm and sympathetic but not pitying, for which she was grateful.

“It’s alright, Pidge. Cyber-defense is your area of expertise. It’s on Hunk and me that you had to be the first line of defense. That was never supposed to be your job. I mean, none of us can help that you’re quiznacking tiny, right?”

Katie frowned and looked away, rubbing the tears from her face. “You’re not helping, jerk. And I don’t need you to protect me. I need to get strong enough to protect myself.”

He squeezed her shoulder and took a step back. “Hey, I never said you needed someone to protect you. You kick my butt in training all the time, and I will spar with you as much as you want when this mess is over so we can _both_ be better prepared for the next curveball. I just don’t want you beating yourself up over this, because it’s in the past and we can’t fix it, only move forward.”

She huffed and looked back toward him. He was still giving her a sweet smile that she felt she didn’t deserve, a smile that spoke of things she didn’t dare hope for.

 _Cariño._ A multifaceted term of endearment that can be translated to any number of things in English.  Sweetheart, honey, love, darling. There were a lot of possible translations the ship could have given her, so it gave her none.

Katie hadn’t studied much Spanish, but as far as she knew it didn’t have to be used in any particular context. He probably didn’t mean anything by it, at least nothing that she might be hoping for.

“Can you pass me that cable?” she asked, pointing to a jumble of wires on the workbench Lance was now leaning against. He obliged and held it out to her, studying the Altean-equivalent-of-plastic-coating that wrapped around the entire length—which was significantly more than she needed, truth be told. It wrapped around and round in stripes of green and blue, like a commercialized candy cane. She thought the sugar would be engineered to taste like some kind of virgin version of a drink they might serve at the beach, maybe even on the beaches where Lance had grown up.

“What do you miss most about home?”

Lance frowned in thought. “Well…to be honest, I kind of miss the simplicity of it all. Sure, the Garrison was boring, but at least we weren’t fighting for our lives every other day.”

“No, I mean…home-home.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He sighed wistfully. “I miss the rain and the beach, fixing _tomales_ with my mom and actually putting my language skills to use. I’m gonna be rusty by the time we get back!”

“Speaking of Spanish…” Katie said, staring at the coiled cable as she finally lifted it from Lance’s fingers and inserted one end into an obscured port on Shiro’s prosthetic. “Did you know the Castleship won’t translate _cariño?_ ”

“Er, no, I didn’t.” Lance was quiet for a moment before he ran a hand through his hair and grinned sheepishly at her. “It means—”

“I know what it means, Lance,” she told him, eagerly turning away to hide her reddening cheeks. Maybe with how frequently it had been happening she could convince him that she’d just busted some capillaries in her face and was experiencing a temporary case of rosatia. Not that he’d ever believe it. She’d just come out of a pod and such a thing would’ve been taken care of.

“Oh.”

“So, what do you miss most about the beach? It’s the dating opportunities, right?”

Lance snorted. “You’d think, but no. Actually, I have my eye on someone I’m not sure I would have met if I’d never left Veradero.”

Katie scowled just as the door to her lab opened with a quiet swoosh and a pair of light footsteps.

“Pidge? Are you alright?” Allura asked. Her worry was just barely evident in her voice. “We went to check on you in the med bay and Coran said you were most likely down here. Have you eaten yet?”

Katie shrugged and dove into the coding on her screen so she wouldn’t have to look at either of her teammates or their visiting ally.

 “She’s working on it, Princess,” Lance answered for her. Katie was in fact not working on it and had eaten a single bite since she’d gotten into the lab. Just the thought of food goo at this point left her nauseous. She resolutely kept her eyes on the scrawling command prompts for Shiro’s arm, though she absorbed nothing.

“So, uh…what are you two up to? Besides checking on everyone’s favorite pigeon, I mean.”

“Pigeon?” Lotor asked.

“He’s talking about Pidge. A pigeon is…a bird of prey, isn’t it?”

Katie cringed when Lance guffawed.

“No. As far as I know they don’t hunt anything besides bugs. Most of the time they’re classified as vermin. They poop everywhere and they’re gross.”

Katie abruptly pushed away from her computer and stalked to the door. “I need some air,” she announced as she swept through it, not caring if anybody actually heard her. They had no reason to care.

Footsteps followed her and she kept going, even pushing so far as to run when the footsteps got closer. She regretted her choice instantly, but she had to see it through. So she ran until she reached a dead end and had to brace herself against the wall as she gagged.

“Oh quiznack. Pidge, are you alright?” Allura asked.

Katie shook her head and cleared her throat. The only good thing about running on empty was that there was no mess to clean up. “I’ll be alright, it’s just…there are too many people in my lab.”

“Oh dear. I’m sorry about that. I suppose the space feels rather small with all the equipment. I thought—well, I thought maybe you were upset because Lance was being…himself.”

“He’s almost always doing something idiotic. Why is today any different?”

“Because the word ‘vermin’ seems to have a less than positive connotation.”

Katie shrugged. “He was talking about birds, not me. And actual pigeons _are_ pretty gross.”

“So you aren’t worried that the nickname has you associated with something ‘gross’ in his mind?”

“No,” Katie said, walking back down the hallway and looking anywhere but at Allura. “Why would I?”

“I thought you liked each other. I just wanted to say I’m certain—”

“Why do you care so much? There’s nothing going on between me and Lance and nothing is _going_ to happen between us because he likes someone else.” Katie burst into tears and slumped against the wall.

“What are you talking about, ‘likes someone else’?”

“Just that. Right before you got there he said he has his eye on someone already, someone he wouldn’t have met if he hadn’t left home. _You,_ princess.”

Allura gasped and Katie turned to see the woman’s eyes wide and a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Pidge…I have absolutely no romantic interest in Lance. He’s like a younger brother to me, and I’m certain you’re mistaken…but never mind that now.” She stepped forward and pulled Katie against her side, hugging the younger woman and supporting her weight at once. “Let’s take care of you right now. The mysteries of Shiro’s behavior can wait until you’ve had a proper meal and rest.”

Katie opened her mouth to argue that Shiro’s arm could _not_ wait, but Allura was already leading her toward the elevator. And the princess was right either way. Her getting upset over Lance at all just proved she needed a nap.

* * *

So much in Lotor’s life had changed recently and so much had stayed the same.

Things that hadn’t changed: the Blue/Red Paladin’s distaste for him.

Things that _had_ changed: the lengths to which the Blue/Red Paladin was willing to go to make his distaste known.

Pidge Holt had bolted from her lab after Lance’s commentary on the animal she was named (nicknamed?) after and Allura had followed quickly, murmuring something about “girl stuff.” Lotor had planned to slip out soon after her but had found himself pressed back against the wall with a red Altean broadsword nestled under his chin. The Paladin was in his face and glaring. Lotor had been completely unaware humans were capable of moving so fast.

But then again, this one was more Altean than not.

He could, of course, have countered easily had he not been caught off guard.

“Lance?” he asked, pleased to note his windpipe was in no way constricted.

“Quiet, Emperor Grapico. I have a question for you and I’m only going to ask you once. ¿ _Comprende_?”

“I understand.”

“What are your intentions for Allura?”

Lotor raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me? You are not her keeper, nor are you her bodyguard.”

“True, but I _am_ her concerned friend and teammate. I’m also the guy with a sword to your throat.”

“This is also true,” Lotor conceded before he kicked at the Lance’s ankle, knocked him off balance, and disarmed him. The Paladin blinked to find Lotor offering back the now dormant Bayard, grip first. “It was a valiant attempt. I applaud your effort.

“As for your question, Allura has the potential to be a truly brilliant alchemist and not only because she is the only potential alchemist left. If there is anything I can do to help her achieve her goals, I will of course comply. As for more personal intentions…I would ask her to consider a future as my empress if I thought for a moment I might someday deserve her.”

Lance blinked and accepted the return of his Bayard. “Wow. That is a lot more information than I was expecting.”

Lotor quirked a smile. “And what were you expecting?”

“To be honest I was kind of expecting to die.”

They both laughed and Lotor shook his head. “You know, Allura complains about earthling humor but I don’t understand what it is she doesn’t understand.”

Lance snorted and wiped a drop of moisture from one eye.

“So, without holding you at sword point, may I ask you an equally intrusive question that I have no business asking?”

The Paladin curled in on himself somewhat and shrugged. “I suppose I deserve that.”

“What are _your_ intentions concerting the Green Paladin?”

The younger man’s cheeks darkened, leaving his bright teal cheek marks to stand out more starkly than before.

“Uh… _Dios_ , Pidge is…She’s incredible and inspiring and I really admire her for a lot of reasons. I’d _like_ to take her on a date, more than once, really, and see if we could ‘go the distance,’ but it would be a waste of time. There’s nothing for a girl like her to see in a guy like me.”

Lotor smirked. “Oh really? You’re a Paladin of Voltron—"

“So is she.”

“—and from what I hear an excellent marksman. Allura tells me you’ve done well in diplomatic settings so far, and you’ve been doing very well as Voltron’s Right Hand. It seems to me you have much to offer.”

Lance was still flushing furiously when he half-turned to look at Lotor again. “You really think so?”

“I do,” Lotor confirmed. “And if she didn’t care at all what you thought I doubt she would’ve reacted as she did to being compared to pestilence.”

“I did what? _Quiznack!_ ”

* * *

_I love you, Keith._

_I love you, Keith._

_I love you…_

The words echoed in Keith’s head, spiraling out of control. He didn’t notice where he was going, instead trying to focus on the warmth of Krolia’s hand on his elbow, treating it as an anchor so he wouldn’t lose himself completely. He finally came back to his surroundings when Krolia pushed a warm mug into his hands. He’d forgotten the feeling of porcelain in his fingers and hadn’t realized they even had such a thing on the Castleship.

“What is this?” He had his answer as soon as he inhaled.

“Coffee. The last of it I had. Abe…your father sent some with me when I…I’ve been hanging on to this last bit for sixteen deca-phoebs now. This seemed like the right time to use it.”

Keith was lost for words. His dad’s coffee.

He lifted the mug to his lips and sipped. “Oh God,” he choked. “You definitely learned about coffee from Dad. You would float a horseshoe in this!”

Krolia quirked a smile. “He always said there was no point in drinking it if it wasn’t going to keep you awake.”

Keith smirked, staring into the dark brew as though it held the answers he wanted. “The funny thing is, his coffee always made me sleepy.”

“Same here. I think it must be a Galra thing, and it’s probably for the best. Your father drank so much of it I always feared his heart might explode.”

“You know, he didn’t talk about you much but he did say you always teased him about being a caffeine addict.”

“I’d hardly call it teasing. Those were dire warnings for his health.”

“He did eventually switch to decaf,” Keith murmured, his smile fading.

“Does Shiro like coffee?”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t make it anything like Dad’s. His was a recipe for the jitters. Shiro makes coffee into art.”

“Is that so?”

_I love you, Keith._

Keith groaned and leaned his head forward, resting it on the table. “Can we not talk about Shiro right now? Didn’t you say we have a mission?”

“We do, but this information has waited a few movements. It can wait another quintant or two. I’m not taking you into dangerous territory like this without a clear head, but I’m not going without you either. So the sooner we talk about Shiro the sooner we can do our job.”

Keith scowled. “And if I refuse to talk?”

“I’m sure Kolivan can send someone else in our place.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Concerning your safety I will never not be serious. But I suppose I can offer a compromise. Get some sleep. Here. In a real bed, and we’ll leave first thing in the morning. Deal?”

Keith took a large gulp of his coffee and thought of everything he didn’t know about this woman and all the answers he wanted.

“Will you answer all my questions if I go along with this?”

“I will answer as many as I can.”

Keith sighed, figuring it was as good as he was going to get. “Alright. I guess it’s a deal.”

Krolia smiled and pushed off from the table. “Good. I’ll go inform Coran of the change in plans and call headquarters.”

Before Keith could blink he was alone in the dining room, left only with his cooling coffee and his thoughts.

_I love you, Keith._

Sure Shiro didn’t mean that the way Keith thought. The man has still been heartbroken when he’d left for Kerberos, and since then they’d all been much too busy fighting an intergalactic war for anyone to be falling in love.

Not that that had stopped Lance or Pidge.

Why should it have stopped Shiro?

But Keith’s feelings for Shiro were purely platonic. Shiro was his best friend and the volunteer at the children’s home who’d gotten him the opportunity of a lifetime. Shiro was the one who’d vouched for him time and again when his anger had gotten the better of him, and he was the one who had taught Keith how to not hate the whole world for taking him away from Dad. They’d gotten closer since coming to space, and he wouldn’t say it aloud, but Keith loved Shiro, too. In a brotherly way.

Didn’t he?

* * *

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you check me out on Tumblr and Youtube! The recording for Chapter 2 of Heritage is in production and I hope to have it ready and uploaded soon!
> 
> lanawrites94.tumblr.com  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLZRtB1ntfJP-Y9Z64b-X-yaceIk0LaWwX


	10. Too Fudgy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk makes ooey gooey brownies, and we learn a tad more about Shiro's predicament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all. I'm sorry for my long absence. It feels like a lot has been going on in my life, but really I've just been having trouble with my depression and anxiety, but also traveling. And I have great news! I have an actual job with a paycheck now! This could have one of two possible effects. Either I will be incredibly busy and my update schedule will become even more horrendously non-existent, or having some real structure to my days will exponentially increase my motivation and productivity. It could go either way, but I'm sure we're all hoping for the latter option. Thank you for your patience with me. Here's chapter 10! Enjoy!

Shiro was the first thing on Keith’s mind when he woke, but there was no time to talk to him. The second he opened his eyes all he could see was Krolia. Apparently there’d been another change of plans. While he’d been sleeping Sendak had attacked a shield station. Lotor wanted Voltron to go to their defense, but Voltron couldn’t go without a Black Paladin. Even if they _could_ trust Shiro right now, he literally couldn’t do it with just one arm. Keith really wished he’d bitten the bullet the previous night so he wouldn’t have been there to be the acting Black Paladin now, but his pride wasn’t worth the lives that were at stake. So he suited up for the first time in entirely too long.

He had missed being a Paladin and living on the Castle, but he hadn’t missed piloting Black. It only reminded him again and again of the easy closeness he’d had with Shiro before and how disconnected he felt from Black. He was piloting her but he wasn’t her Paladin. He felt like she was trying to tell him something important, but he couldn’t make out her words, no matter how hard he tried.

That maybe Shiro hadn’t left him, didn’t think he was doing a terrible job, was just coming from a bad place.

Maybe.

Probably not.

He didn’t exactly have time to dwell on it, not when it was time to form Voltron.

Except Voltron was useless. They’d all expected to be the ion canon’s target, but the shot had gone right past them and hit the shield generator.

They could take out Sendak or help the people of the labor colony. It wasn’t a real choice, though Keith was at a loss for _how_ to help.

“There isn’t enough time for an evacuation, is there? Pidge?”

“I’m not even going to bother with the numbers. There is absolutely not enough time.”

“Alright…Hunk, you’re the engineer. Take point.”

“You got it. Lance, Allura, Keith, help me get these panels realigned. Pidge, get in there and get the power running.”

“Quiznack! I can’t interface with the tech and Shiro isn’t here.”

Keith grit his teeth. “I can. I’ll go with you.”

He heard her sigh of relief even over her scrambling for her equipment as she maneuvered her lion out of the way. “I keep forgetting you can do that.”

Keith snorted but followed her. He couldn’t see how she could’ve forgotten he was part Galra, especially with his estranged mother suddenly roaming the Castleship, but then again if she found out she really was descended from some Italian fascist, that would probably slip his mind, too. She wasn’t the one living the reality of the Blade of Marmora, and she hadn’t been idle either. She’d been fighting her own battles.

He followed Pidge into the bowels of the shield generator and placed his hand when and where he was directed, listening to the other three Paladins working to realign the panels overhead while Pidge typed furiously on her wrist computer.

“So how are you doing, Keith?” she asked, glancing up at him between keystrokes. “We haven’t gotten to talk at all. I didn’t even see you yesterday before Allura made me go to bed.”

Keith shrugged and didn’t meet her gaze. “I’m doing alright, I guess. Found my mom. Kolivan has a lot of explaining to do about _that_. I can’t really complain much besides, you know, the new emperor of the Galra Empire is our ally, yet this quiznacking war is still going on.”

 “I definitely agree with you there, but maybe now isn’t the best time to talk about that?” She gestured vaguely to their coms system and Keith understood. Allura was apparently pretty smitten with Lotor if the gossip was to be believed, and if she heard them discussing their distrust of him it could distract her and therefore put the entire operation in jeopardy. “So, what do you think about this whole thing with Shiro?”

Keith’s blood froze in his veins. How did Pidge know about that? He licked his lips and cursed his dry mouth. “Er, uh…I don’t know what to think about that.” He was scrambling for something to say, anything to redirect her attention from Shiro’s confusing confession, when he had a brilliant idea.

“What do _you_ think about this whole thing with you and _Lance?_ ”

Pidge paused her typing and glanced up at him. He thought he saw the lightest shade of pink in her normally pale face. “What thing with me and Lance? What are you talking about?”

Keith grinned at her in triumph. “Oh, you know, that thing where you like each other but neither of you wants to make the first move?”

She went back to her task with a scary degree of determination. “Even if I did like him, which I don’t, he doesn’t like me, Keith. He’s still crushing on Allura.”

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much.”

“What does this have to do with anything? Do you just not care that Shiro threw me into a wall because you’re in love with him?”

Keith blanched and pulled his hand from the panel to face her fully. “I am _not_ in love with Shiro; he’s like my brother. Also, I’m not gay!”

“Right,” Pidge snorted. “And I’m _not_ into Lance. Speaking from personal experience, Keith, you don’t check out your brother’s butt. Ever.”

“I don’t—”

“Keith! Pidge! What’s going on down there? Where’s the power?” Hunk yelled.

“Lance!” Allura screamed.

Keith scrambled to put his hand back on the sensor, but he could hear the pandemonium overhead. Something had just gone horribly wrong, and whatever it was, it was all his fault. He looked over to Pidge and found his own horror mirrored in her enormous amber eyes and cascading down her cheeks.

* * *

 

“How could you?” Allura demanded, her eyes shining with fury and frustration. “I have never witnessed any two warriors behaving so immaturely in all my life. The Paladins of Old would be ashamed of you.” She turned to storm off and Katie thought her heart might implode from the pain and shame. Why had she let the situation get so out of hand?

“I’m sorry,” Keith said, hanging his head and refusing to look at anyone. “That was all on me and it will never happen again.”

Hunk crossed his arms and studied the two smallest Paladins carefully. “You should be apologizing to Lance more than anyone. You know I’m going to forgive you eventually, but we almost lost a good man today, who also happens to be my best friend, so…I’m going to go bake something and neither of you can have any.” He zipped out of the room, leaving them alone with the teammate they’d failed.

They all tried to speak at once and cacophony was followed by another awkward pause before Lance stooped to pick up Allura’s discarded helmet.

“It’s a talking stick,” Lance explained. “I know it isn’t an actual stick, but it’s the best I’ve got right now. The idea is that whoever has it gets to speak, and then they pass it off so the next person can have a turn. It’s the only way life isn’t chaos back home when my nieces and nephews are all visiting.

“Anyway, I just wanted to tell you both that it’s okay. I mean, getting blasted by the shield generator didn’t feel good, but it all turned out okay, didn’t it? So don’t beat yourselves up over it, okay? We’re all human here; we make mistakes. So learn from this one instead of agonizing over what you should have done differently. Can you promise me that?”

Katie clenched her eyes shut and held out a hand for the helmet, speaking only when she felt the familiar weight in her hands. She kept her eyes averted when she felt the others’ eyes on her.

“I just want to tell you that I’m incredibly sorry and it will never happen again, Lance. You have my word.” She held the helmet toward Keith and dropped it, not waiting to see if he caught it or not. She couldn’t stand another moment of scrutiny, real or imagined, and she desperately needed some time alone.

She wasn’t even halfway to her room when she realized she wasn’t going to get that privacy any time soon. She could hear someone’s boots pounding on the floor and a glance over her shoulder revealed Keith.

“Pidge, wait up,” he called. She stopped and leaned against the wall. She didn’t want to have this conversation, or any conversation really, but she also didn’t have the energy to run from him.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing. I just…felt like I should apologize to you, too.”

“For what? You don’t owe me anything. We’re equally at fault.”

“That’s the thing, though. I’m not sure we are. That argument happened because I thought you were talking about something Shiro said while you were still in the Pod because I’m stupid—“

“You’re not stupid.”

“—and I turned an assessment of the team’s current situation into a petty squabble over crushes.”

“So you admit you have a crush on Shiro?”

“No, I’m acknowledging your opinion, and I’m especially sorry that Lance got hurt because of it. I know what he means to you—”

“I would have been just as upset if it was you.”

“Bull quiznack. As I was saying, there’s a lesson Kolivan’s been trying to teach me this whole time.  Today really drove that home for me, but probably in a way that’s going to give him an aneurism. We’re in a war, and any battle could be our last. It’s too risky to leave anything unsaid.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because  I really admire you, Pidge. Your drive to save your family has never wavered, and I’m so impressed by how you’ve never let it overtake your duties for Voltron, or let those duties take too much time from your search. You’re an amazing teammate, and I really value your friendship.”

Katie’s mouth flopped open. “Uh…er, thank you?” she stammered. “You’re cool, too. I like the way you…hit things?”

Keith smirked. “Also, I _really_ think you should tell Lance you’re in love with him.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go find Krolia. We had a mission we were supposed to leave for last night.” And with that he turned and left, leaving Katie and her jaw still hanging.

“Only if you talk to Shiro!” she yelled after him. Keith visibly flinched but waved an acknowledgement over his shoulder. “Oh, Lance is gonna get it,” she murmured to herself as she turned and wandered toward her new destination. Wherever Hunk was baking, there would also be a Cuban-Altean Paladin.

* * *

 

Hunk could see Lance salivating as he bustled over the pans of brownies. He’d just perfected his formula for space chocolate, and not to brag, but the first of many subsequent culinary experiments smelled like heaven. They came out a weird blue color—cyan?—but that was fine so long as they tasted alright, and from the look on Lance’s face as he shoved one whole into his mouth, piping hot as it was, they tasted like heaven, too. Hunk had just turned to place the next pan in the oven when the door swooshed open and he heard fast, tiny feet angrily slapping the floor.

“Lance! What the _quiznack_ did you tell Keith?”

“What?” Hunk thought he was trying to say, but his mouth was still full of teal brownie so it sounded more like he was talking through a kazoo.

_If Pidge thinks she’s getting an “I forgive you” brownie after this then she’s got another thing coming._

“Keith just stopped me in the hallway and said I should tell you I’m in love with you, so I’ll ask again. What did you say to Keith?”

_Oh. I guess this is my fault. Maybe an “I’m sorry” brownie? But Keith’s definitely getting two “thank you” brownies for the road. He’s a beautiful genius._

Lance tried to swallow his mouthful of chocolate, but it was a whole square and still steaming hot. He tried to speak but around Nirvana it was still unrecognizable nonsense.

“Not talking to me, Lance? Are you that ashamed?” She glared up at him as he frantically gestured at his face.

 _Maybe I made them_ too _fudgy?_

Hunk cut the corner off of one of his brownies and popped it into his mouth.  The rich chocolate melted on his tongue and cemented his jaws together, but the amazing flavors were totally worth it.

_How do I reduce the goo factor and keep it this fudgy…or maybe, something this fudgy is too good for this world…_

“If you won’t talk then there’s no point in me staying.”

Pidge turned to storm off but Lance snagged the tiny paladin’s hand and followed her.  They seemed unaware, but Hunk caught the way their fingers interlaced as Pidge effectively dragged the taller paladin from the mess hall.

Hunk hummed to himself as he poured a glass of milk, hoping to wash down the gooey cyan cement, and grinned devilishly when he looked to the doorway and saw a pair of shocked Altean royals. He could only assume they’d come following their noses, but they were going to regret it now. He watched them as he took a swallow of dairy delight and freed his jaws. He took extra glee in Allura’s grimace.

“Pay up!” he sang, wiggling the fingers of his free hand at Allura. The bit of GAC owed him would supply a good bit of materials for future experiments.

* * *

 

For the second time in as many days, Shiro woke up strapped to a table. But this time he knew where he was before he was even fully awake.

“Open wide,” Coran sang. “Food lion coming in!”

Shiro opened his eyes and moved his head away from the spoon Coran was wooshing toward his mouth. “Stop it, Coran. I can feed myself,” he groused, frowning when the older Altean bit his lip and looked away.

“Actually…well, I ran some more tests while you were asleep. I’m afraid that I cannot in good conscience let you up, even to feed yourself, until I know more.”

Shiro’s mouth fell open. “What could you have possibly found that would make you so warry of me? I’m down to one arm for quiznack’s sake!”

“You only needed one arm to throw the little one,” said a vaguely familiar voice. Shiro turned his head and saw the Galra woman from the previous day. “But that’s beside the point. What we’ve found out is that, genetically speaking, you are not the same Takashi Shirogane who first set foot in this castle on planet Arus.”

Shiro wanted to laugh. This _had_ to be a joke. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m the same man. Who else would I be?”

“You’re still you, Shiro,” Coran assured him. “It’s just, we don’t know what else the Galra might have done to you, and we need to be sure. Pidge could have died yesterday. Lance _did_ die today—”

“What?!”

“But Allura healed him so it’s alright. My point is that we can’t afford to take any more chances, so until we can confirm that Haggar doesn’t have any more ways to attack us through you, I can’t let you move around on your own.”

“I’ve checked him myself,” the Galran woman said, though Shiro didn’t know if she actually thought she could make him feel better. “He’s perfectly fine, though the Altean marks on his face are somewhat more distinct now. Though I have to ask. How old do you think you are, Shiro?”

“What kind of question is that? I’m twenty-five—well, maybe twenty-six by now, but that’s not the point.”

“I believe you believe that, but we carbon-dated you when your scans didn’t match. Your body is only a year old, two at most, though your DNA degeneration is consistent with that of a twenty-five-old.”

“No. No, that can’t be right.”

Coran put a hand on his shoulder but wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Shiro, but that witch did more to you than any of us realized. I hope you understand though, it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault, and I’m going to do everything in my power to help you. You have my word on the remnants of Altea.

“Though you should know it’s not all bad news—”

“Krolia!”

Everyone stopped talking just then as Keith walked in the door. He paused on the threshold and sighed. “Don’t stop talking on my account. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, Keith,” Shiro said softly, averting his gaze from his best friend in all the cosmos. “We’re just talking about my test results.”

“Oh…how’s it looking?”

Shiro sighed and continued to avoid his gaze. “Not great. Can I fill you in when we know more?”

“Is your illness acting up again?”

“What illness?” the Galran woman asked.

Shiro turned to look at her. “I’ve had a degenerative disease since I was a kid. How could you have been working with Coran on my tests and not have noticed?”

She shrugged. “There’s nothing here to indicate any such disease.”

“I was just getting to that actually, Shiro. It’s gone. You’re as healthy as a klanmürl!”

 “What?” Keith asked, and Shiro had to look at him now. His jaw was hanging open but his eyes were bright with hope, hope that Shiro himself couldn’t quite accept. Sure, he hadn’t had any problems with his illness since he’d returned from Galra captivity the second time, but he’d never considered that it was gone. One did not simply recover from terminal degenerative diseases. “How is it just gone?”

“Well,” Coran said. “…Actually we’re not sure.”

The woman—Krolia?—sighed and Shiro turned his head to look at her. “I thought it was fairly obvious, Coran. Clearly he’s a—” She choked on her words and glanced worriedly at Keith. “—er, had…body parts…replaced? That must have something to do with it.”

Everything clicked into place for Shiro.  He felt like a fool not to have realized it sooner.

“Body _parts_?” Keith asked. “As in, more than just his arm? What else did the old hag do to him?”

“We’re still trying to figure that out, Number Four. I have plenty more tests to run.”

“Yes, and we have a mission for Kolivan. That we were supposed to leave for yesterday, so we should get going. I’ll help you review the results when we return,” she said before grabbing Keith by the shoulders and steering him out of the room.

“Hey, Hunk,” Keith said from just outside the door. “How’s Lance?”

“Oh, he’s fine. Just kind of confused. Anyway, I made you and your mom some lunches for the road. I’m sure it’ll be nice to have _something_ besides food goo, even if there isn’t a whole lot of it, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Keith said. There was a rustling of paper. “I thought you said Pidge and I weren’t allowed to have any brownies this time?”

“I decided there was no point being passive aggressive over it. So there’s a brownie in there to say I forgive you.”

“But there’s two in here.”

“The other is to say thank you.”

“Thank you for what?”

“I’ll tell you when you get back, okay?”

“Uh, sure? See you then.”

“Later, dude. Be careful.”

Hunk’s footsteps grew louder as Keith and Krolia’s faded into the distance. “Hey, Shiro. I brought you and Coran some brownies—are you okay, man?”

Shiro shook his head to clear it and glanced at his friend and teammate—former teammate? “Huh?”

“Are you alright? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“I feel like I might be a ghost.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know if my tags are too much or leave something to be desired.
> 
> Check me out on YouTube and Tumblr!  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=UUHB8sFJ9oDypDR0WaEeyMzQ  
> lanawrites94.tumblr.com
> 
> Also, I really want to get more Heritage up on my YouTube channel, but honestly I'm getting kind of bored of my standard cover image. Regrettably, I'm a terrible artist. Once in a blue moon I can churn out a single character that's halfway decent, but it takes a week and I simply don't have that kind of time! So if anyone wanted to draw a cover image for this fic (or any other pieces I haven't put on my channel yet) I could maybe trade a one-shot for it? Though we all know my track record with those!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know how I'm doing!


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